


Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong To None

by logarhythm



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Albinism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Fluff, M/M, Teenage Drama, awkward idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 12:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 57,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1779751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logarhythm/pseuds/logarhythm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shion is the perfect student. He is currently attending a prestigious academy and leads a comfortable, quiet, ordinary life with his mother and best friend in Lost Town. However, a mysterious and dangerous transfer student lurks on the horizon, and little does Shion know his life is about to be turned upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic actually began its life as a short oneshot... which is now part of the fourth chapter. Send help.
> 
> Also credits to Shakespeare for the title.

"Hey, Shion," a brunette girl whispers conspiratorially from the desk behind him. "Have you heard about the transfer student?"

"Transfer student?" Violet eyes glance up with mild surprise as their owner swivels around in his seat. "But this is an elite academy. You have to pass all sorts of IQ tests and go through the training programme... Not just anyone can get into this school. Are you sure it's not just some kind of mistake? A rumour?"

Safu's chestnut eyes are gleaming. "I've  _seen_  him." Her serious expression morphs into a rare smirk. "He's just as good-looking as the rumours say. Tall, dark and handsome, you know the stereotype. And apparently he's an arts whiz. Music, drama, lit... All that." She huffs. "Not really like us at all."

Shion blinks. He's heard rumours of a transfer student, but not for one moment has he considered it a serious possibility.  _What kind of person would transfer in halfway through the fourth year?_

"Settle down, class," their teacher calls wearily from the front of the spacious room. "I have an important announcement." She waits irritably for silence until she continues. "Tomorrow, we will be welcoming a new student into our class."

The class erupts into raucous noise and gossip, loud ' _I told you so_ 's thrown every which way, until the teacher hollers for them to ' _shut up_ '.

A hand shoots into the air. "Miss," she questions eagerly, "Is it a girl?"

She snorts. "It's not like I'm  _pregnant_ , geez. No, it's a boy." She shushes the growing noise and answers the bubbling questions before they explode. "He's seventeen, dark hair, tall and rides a motorbike. 'Fraid I don't know anything else. You'll have to ask him yourself tomorrow."

A group of girls in the far corner begin to grumble, but they are quickly cut off by an annoyed rap on the projector screen. "I'm trying to teach a lesson, kids. Save your sad love woes until  _after_  class, okay?"

* * *

Shion lets out a wispy sigh, rolling onto his side to face the window, where he can see the street lights winking at him through the thin fabric of the curtain. For some reason, he is apprehensive about tomorrow. Is apprehensive the correct word?  _Perhaps 'nervous' or 'agitated' are better,_  he thinks to himself.

Whatever the feeling is, it's creating a tight knot in his gut and Shion knows he won't be able to sleep any time soon. He reluctantly pushes the covers off his lanky frame and fumbles for his glasses on the bedside table before plodding downstairs clad only in a plain vest and boxers, making a beeline for the kitchen cupboard above the dishwasher.

He supposes he should be bothered by the chilly spring air, but he is too busy caught up in a web of uncomfortable and anxious thoughts to concentrate on much else besides making himself a steaming hot mug of cocoa.

* * *

He swears under his breath. He overslept, and is already twenty minutes behind schedule. There's no way Safu is still waiting to walk to school together - punctuality is one of her strengths - so Shion grabs the handles of his battered bike and flings himself at it. He hurtles down the road at top speed, narrowly avoiding a few crashes, and shoots through the gates at five minutes past nine. Shion isn't quite sure where he abandoned his bike, but by the time he reaches the third floor - where fourth-year classes are situated - he's utterly exhausted.

He hastily turns a corner in a hurry to reach his classroom, but instead of empty corridor, his vision is suddenly full of an ocean of stormy grey and Shion is so drowned in their depths that he loses what little balance he was maintaining and crashes to the ground, bringing a heavy something down with him.

He opens his eyes, but immediately closes them again as they are assaulted by the harsh lighting. He searches the floor for his tinted glasses and puts them back on.

Above him, sitting up and rubbing irritably at their shoulder, is the most beautiful person Shion has ever seen. The messy long hair and feminine features would ordinarily lead Shion to believe they're a woman, but those thoughts are dashed as soon as they proceed to shrug off their oversized biker jacket to inspect the blossoming bruises on their arm, revealing broad shoulders and a distinctly flat chest.

"Fuck's sake," a rich, smooth voice grumbles deeply. The stranger casts an annoyed look at Shion - now also sitting up - but does a graceful double-take as Shion's appearance registers, stormy grey eyes wide and jaw slack.

Shion is used to looks like this. Albinism is rare, after all. He receives lots of looks varying from ones of interest and curiosity to ones of shock and even downright fear.

"Sorry," he murmurs to the beautiful stranger, feeling really rather clumsy and somehow inadequate in front of the man, who by this point is blatantly staring at him.

There's a tense pause, but the man  _tsks_  at him and pulls himself up, not bothering to dust off the dirt on his well-worn khakis. Shion remains on the floor in a daze.

Pleasant surprise washes over him as a slender pale hand is offered down to him. It gestures impatiently for him to take it, so he does. The skin is unexpectedly calloused.

Shion pushes himself up, but quickly realises he didn't need to as the stranger's pull is shockingly strong, and Shion feels almost weightless in his hold.

It's not an unpleasant feeling.

"Are you okay?" Shion asks after a moment, noticing the emerging purple and blue marks on the man's arm, which must've taken the brunt of the fall.

The calloused warmth leaves his palm.

"I've had worse." The jacket is shrugged on in a single fluid motion. Shion notices the man's eyes are fixed on Shion's hair and he suddenly feels quite uncomfortable. The silver gaze drifts down to meet lilac, and a dark eyebrow is raised. "Don't you have class?"

Shion's jaw drops and he brings a pale hand up to his face. It's nearly twenty minutes past nine now - he's going to be horribly late no matter how much he hurries, so he resigns himself to his fate and sighs. "Damn."

Thin lips twist into a smirk. "Oh well. What's one class skipped, after all?"

"It's a big deal," Shion protests. "I've never skipped class before - never even been late, either."

"Seriously?" The stranger lets out an amused but somewhat condescensing sort of huff. "Wow, kid, you need to live a little."

Shion frowns. " _Kid?_ " he echoes. "I'm a senior. I'm eighteen."

Now  _that_  earns him a look of shock.

"... I thought you were a freshman. Sorry." Though he doesn't sound sorry at all. "You have such a baby face, really." The man laughs. "You must get asked for ID all the time."

Shion huffs and crosses his arms, mildly insulted. Sure, he looks a little young for his age - but surely not a  _freshman_.

"I'm a senior too, actually," the stranger says after a while, out of the blue. He leans his back against the corridor wall. "We might be in the same class."

This catches Shion's attention. "You're the new transfer student, then?"  _Wow, I thought he was a teacher or something._ "What's your name?"

"Nezumi." He exhales. "What about you, kid?"

"I told you, I'm not a kid. I'm older than you, anyway. And it's Shion."

Nezumi smirks. "You're short and you look fifteen. You're still a kid to me. And how do you know how old I am?"

"I'm not short," Shion grumbles. Nezumi's only an inch or two taller. It's nothing, really. "And the teacher told us yesterday in class. I'm not a creep."

"If you say so, kid."

Shion ignores the nickname, and finds himself automatically joining the man, his back to the white wall.

"So why're you transferring so late? You'll barely have six months here before you graduate."

"Got kicked out of my old school. My old man wants me to finish high school, and this was the nearest one."

Violet eyes bulge - for a punctual, obedient, straight-A student like Shion, getting expelled from school is something of a distant fantasy. He silently takes in the scuffed biker jacket, the rough, calloused hands, the faint smell of cigarette smoke... Shion squints at the man's sharp profile and notices a small scar across his eyebrow.  _Like a boxer's scar._  He inhales.  _Perhaps this man is dangerous._

He pushes the thought to the back of his mind. "What did you do to get  _expelled_?" he inquires with bewilderment.

A glance is cast his way, swirling full of icy dark humour. It sends a cold shiver down Shion's spine.

He doesn't ask any more after that.

* * *

They arrive fashionably early for their next class - coincidentally, a class they both take. The teacher bursts into the classroom minutes later in a flurry of papers.

"Oh..." he exclaims at the sight of the unfamiliar face. "You must be Nezumi," he greets kindly as he dumps the stack of disorganised books on his desk. He holds out a gloved hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Nezumi takes the proffered hand politely. "You too, professor."

"Professor," he repeats to himself with a smile as he withdraws behind his desk. "I don't get called that often."

He seemingly only just notices Shion's presence at the side of the classroom, sitting quietly at his desk and staring out of the window. "Ah, Shion. You're early. Isn't the previous lesson still in session?"

"Uh-"

Nezumi smoothly cuts him off. "We were let out of class early so that Shion could show me around a little."

"Oh, I see." The teacher returns to his papers as he rummages through the disarray, seemingly looking for something.

Shion catches Nezumi's eye - the man is smirking again. Shion feels like he should be irritated... but he isn't. Instead, he gestures to the seat in front of him - Safu sits behind him and the seat to his right is occupied, but he knows the seat in front of him is always empty.

He didn't expect Nezumi to comply, but the taller student is somehow  _gliding_  across the classroom, and he slips gracefully into the wooden chair. Shion can't help but admire the elegance of every action.

"Do you dance?"

A jet black head looks up from whatever book he was reading -  _where did he get that from_ \- and turns around, a deadpan expression on his face. "Seriously, Shion? Where the fuck did that come from?"

"I was just asking."

At Shion's straight face, the incredulous expression shifts subtly into one of bemusement. Nezumi says slowly, "Sure, I dance."

A small victory smile blooms on Shion's face. "I knew it."

Nezumi shifts fully around, leaning his uninjured elbow on Shion's desk. He fixes Shion with a narrow stare, as if he's trying to solve a difficult puzzle.

It makes Shion intensely uncomfortable, as if his soul is being utterly bared to those sharp charcoal eyes. He's about to tell the man just that, when the door opens loudly and Nezumi's gaze snaps towards it. The moment is gone, and so is the awkward feeling in Shion's gut.

"Oh hey, Shion's already here," a brown-haired classmate calls from the doorway. Shion can't remember his name.

Two girls follow him inside, hair curled perfectly and held in position by so much hairspray Shion can smell it from across the room. "Eh? Who's that with him?" one asks.

"Maybe it's the transfer student," a lanky student answers casually.

"Yeah, but why's he with  _Shion_?"

More and more students are flooding into the classroom. Nezumi removes his arm from Shion's desk.

"Is that a girl?"

"Do they know each other?"

"Maybe they're friends."

"Maybe they're  _dating_."

"Ha, as if a recluse like Shion could get a girlfriend."

The teacher clears his throat loudly and waves his hands at the raucous class gently. "Sit down, get your books out, everyone..."

When Shion looks up to copy down the lesson heading into his notes from the projector screen, he realises getting stupidly-tall Nezumi to sit directly in front of him might have been a dumb decision.

He leaves class with a horrible strain in his neck.

* * *

Shion paces around the tiled floor. If he goes to the canteen to eat lunch like usual, he'll be bombarded with questions about Nezumi. It was difficult enough escaping his classmates as they left the room - some of the single girls were quite persistent. He doesn't want to ruin his lunchbreak with the same experience.  _Sorry, Safu,_  he mentally apologises.  _I'll have to abandon you today._

His mind set, he leaves the bathroom quickly and heads for the roof. Students aren't technically allowed there, but Shion is well-liked by the lunch patrol and so frequently gets away with it.

When he reaches the wide expanse, he is suddenly grateful for his cardigan. The March breeze is unusually chilly.

Shion glances around warily, in case any teachers are around - they have been known to occasionally eat lunch on the roof if the weather permits - but after a few minutes he relaxes as he comes to the conclusion that he is utterly alone.

Wrongly.

Shion freezes in place as a deep voice reaches his ears through the wind.

"Seriously, what the hell?" it grumbles at nothing. "You're such a moron." There is a pause. "No, I'm not dropping your lunch off at school.  _I'm_ at school too, in case you've forgotten." Another pause, and Shion realises the person must be on the phone. "Well then don't forget tomorrow. Ask the old man, he's a sap.  _He_ might - if you beg like your mutts do."

There's a small  _click_  and Shion guesses the phone call is over. He quietly approaches the voice on the other side of the electrical storeroom. When he peeks out from around the corner, he lets out a breath of relief. "Oh, it's you."

"Yeah, it's me," Nezumi replies sullenly from his place slouched on the floor. "You're not very subtle, by the way. I heard you as soon as you opened the access door."

"Real-  _agh!_ " Shion tumbles gracelessly to his knees on the concrete beside Nezumi, who fixes him with a very unimpressed look.

"Clumsy," Nezumi comments as he takes a bite out of his rye bread roll.

Shion frowns as he rubs his ankle, which had caught on the base of the wall as he turned. "It's not my fault," he mumbles. "I don't have any depth perception or spacial awareness."

"That's obvious."

Shion furrows his brow in a mixture of pain and annoyance. "No, I mean I literally don't. Vision problems are a side-effect of albinism."

The taller man stills. He swallows his mouthful. "... Oh. That sucks."

Shion shrugs awkwardly. "It's been like this since I was born. I'm used to it."

Nezumi is watching him, apparently listening. His lunch is either forgotten or ignored beside him. "Isn't that why you wear glasses? To improve your vision like any other person?"

"Well yes," Shion says slowly, "but this isn't ordinary short-sightedness and it's very difficult to correct... Even with the glasses, my vision is still a bit out of focus.

"I consider myself lucky though," Shion continues, if only to fill the silence. "Many albinos suffer from nystagmus or strabismus - or can't see at all - which are much worse, in my opinion. At least my vision is workable. Everything's just... blurry."

Nezumi draws a knee up to his chest and rests his cheek on it, facing Shion. "Lucky, huh..." he breathes quietly as he considers the man in front of him. "Most people would complain about it endlessly, or live their lives feeling disgustingly sorry for themselves. Don't you ever resent the life you're living?"

Shion blinks in surprise. " _Resent_  it?" He smiles awkwardly. "No, I couldn't. I go to a wonderful school and I live in a nice house with a stable income and a mother who loves me. What's a bit of inconvenience, really?"

The beaming grin he flashes Nezumi is brighter than a July noon.

* * *

"I'm home," Shion says cheerfully as he enters, thought it is unnecessary as Karan is behind the counter, stacking warm bread rolls, and can see him clearly.

"Hello, sweetie. How was your day?"

Shion dumps his bag on the floor with a sigh. He glances up to meet his mother's gaze - she is dusted in a fine layer of flour. "Good, I guess. Exhausting." At her pointed look, he elaborates. "You know the transfer student I mentioned? He arrived today."

"Oh!" she exclaims, hurrying around the counter. "Well this is news. What is he like?"

Shion follows his mother into the back room, which serves as both a dining room and lounge. "He's..." Shion inhales. "Interesting."

A brown eyebrow is raised. "'Interesting'?" she repeats. "I don't think you've ever described anything other than your Ecology class as 'interesting' before." She settles into the worn, cosy loveseat, and Shion follows suit, fresh bread roll in hand.

"Yeah," Shion replies. He rips off a small chunk of the roll absent-mindedly. "I guess I haven't."

"So what about this boy is 'interesting', hm?" At Shion's raised eyebrows, a bright laugh chimes. "I'm interested, Shion. It's not every day you get a transfer student at that school - never mind one you find  _interesting_!"

Shion sighs, and avoids eye contact. "We bumped into each other in the corridor," he mumbles. Why is he so awkward talking about this? "Quite literally, actually."

Karan smiles, nudging him softly in the arm. "That can't have been it, Shion. I know you. What happened? Was it-" She abruptly cuts herself off, and her face drains of colour. "Oh no, nothing  _bad_  happened, did it? He wasn't nasty to you, or-"

"No!" Shion interjects with force. "No, Mama, nothing like that happened. It wasn't a bad thing at all, just... out of the ordinary."

Karan fixes him with a concerned gaze nevertheless. "Are you sure? You know, Shion, if anything  _does_  happen - if they start bullying you again - or anything else - you can always tell me, okay?"

"I know," Shion reassures her softly. "But everything's been fine recently. I promise."

"Okay," Karan says. She runs a hand lovingly through thick white locks before heaving herself up off the old sofa with a bright smile. "I'll make us some dinner and you can tell me all about him."


	2. Chapter 2

Shion hasn't spoken with Nezumi since the day he arrived - Tuesday. It's now Friday.  _It can't be helped, I suppose,_  Shion thinks idly as he gazes out of the window.  _We have hardly any classes together. I'm an Ecology major and he's a Drama major._

"Shion."

Said boy blinks, and looks up. His Calculus teacher seems to be glaring at him -  _How long has he been trying to get my attention for?_

"Yes, sir?"

"Class ended five minutes ago. I suggest you hurry, before you're late for your next lesson."

"...  _Eh?_ "

* * *

Shion sprints down the hallway; luckily his next class - World History - is fairly close by.

He skids to a stop outside the door just as the last remnants of his classmates are filing in, clears his throat and enters the classroom in a cool, calm and collected manner.

Well, he  _attempts_  to.

When questioned later, Shion will stubbornly refuse to admit tripping over a haphazardly placed schoolbag.

He glances around uninterestedly as the lesson plan is recited in a dreary voice. Pairwork, cultural studies, team project etc etc. Shion doesn't know why he chose the subject - science is more his forte. Unfortunately, he was required to pick between Geography, World History and Philosophy.

"Now who doesn't have a partner?"

Shion raises his hand; Safu elected to take Geography, leaving him without a friend in the class.

A redheaded girl is ordered to sit beside him. She does so - but with an irritated grimace.

Shion coughs, and wonders if he's done something to offend her.

She turns to him and says confidently, "We're going to study the Great War."

An ivory eyebrow is raised - the sentence wasn't posed as a question. "Uh, okay."

It's a little depressing for Shion's taste, but it seems she's very (morbidly) interested in it, so he lets her be.

Anyway - if he's lucky, her enthusiasm will leave him with little work to do, giving him more time to work on his Independent Studies project for his Ecology class.

The class is already beginning to mutter, despite the fact that the teacher is still droning on.

"Ah, yes, the transfer student... We'd best pair you up with a successful student, hm? So they can explain the curriculum to you..."

"Isn't that  _your_  job?" the redhead mutters with annoyance.

Shion suppresses a grin. Perhaps it isn't  _him_ \- she seems to just be an angry sort of person.

 _Wait..._ Shion's breath hitches.  _Transfer student?_

A tall girl stands, and Shion's gaze follows her as she makes her way across the room. She gracefully lowers herself into a seat beside -  _beside Nezumi_.

"What?" Shion's partner demands brusquely. "We need to get going. There's no time to have your head up in the clouds."

"Sorry," he responds lightly. She huffs and begins to immerse herself in work. Shion knows he should probably do the same if he wants to keep his perfect GPA, but he can't help but watch as her dull green eyes morph into glimmering emeralds at her research topic. He's faintly amused by it.

She continually prods him in an effort to make him produce work - but for some reason, Shion finds his concentration span is unusually short and he repeatedly spaces out, letting stormy grey and charcoal black fill his mind's eye.

"For God's sake," the girl suddenly exclaims. She stands up, throwing her seat backwards in the process, and slams her palms onto the heavy wooden desk. "Sir, I need a new partner!"

The middle-aged man seems unaffected by her outburst. "Why, Miki?"

"He just keeps spacing out! He won't do any work!"

"Actually sir," a deeper female voice adds as its owner stands, "I would like to request a change of partner as well."

"You too, Ayano?" he asks with a sigh.

"He flat-out refuses to help me, despite the fact that it is  _our_  project, and just - he's just  _reading_."

He waves them off. "Okay, okay... It sounds like these two lazy kids are perfect for each other. How about you just swap partners? Shion is more than capable of being the transfer student's guide."

"Hn," Miki grunts and strides across the classroom towards the taller girl. She hovers over Nezumi's seat until he hauls himself up with a sigh. Miki immediately takes his seat and the other girl sits back down without another glance at the dark-haired man.

Nezumi glances at Shion with resignation. Shion looks apologetic.

"Hey there, clumsy kid." Nezumi drops into the recently vacated seat.

Shion huffs at the nickname. "I'm not a kid."

"But you  _are_  clumsy. Don't think I didn't see how you gracelessly stumbled your way in here five minutes late."

Shion scowls. "Like I said, not my fault."

Nezumi hums in consideration, resting his chin in a pale palm. "That's why you wear those sunglasses, right?"

"They're not sunglasses... They're corrective lenses, tinted darker because my eyes are over-sensitive to light due to the lack of pigment in my irises, which means light can enter through them when really it's only supposed to enter through the pupil and ironically their main function in a healthy eye is to contract to  _decrease_ the amount of light that..." Shion pauses at the plain expression on his partner's face. "Sorry. Bad habit of talking too much," he laughs slightly.

"No, please continue."

Shion narrows his eyes. "Is that sarcastic?"

Nezumi turns to face him, brushing a few stray dark hairs out of his face with a slender hand. "I'm not usually a fan of technical science, but I'm genuinely interested." The twist of his lips resembles more of a smile than his previous smirks did, but Shion still isn't totally convinced.

Nezumi doesn't  _sound_ like he's mocking Shion... But then again, he  _is_  talking about a Drama major. Who knows what Nezumi is really thinking?

A deep chuckle rumbles in the taller man's throat. "Stop looking at me like you think I just murdered your cat."

Shion is a little taken aback. "I wasn't looking at you like that," he mutters uncertainly.  _Was I?_

"Just how corrective are the lenses?" Nezumi asks suddenly, as if determined to keep the subject on topic. "They must be pretty strong."

Shion purses his lips. The expression on Nezumi's face is unreadable, and there are no hints in his tone of voice either.  _A good actor._ "Want to try them?" Shion offers.

There is an affirmative noise, but before Shion can reach up to grasp the thin steel arm, the glasses are off; he assumes Nezumi has taken them, but he can't see well enough to tell because of the glare of the artificial lighting.

"Wow," he hears Nezumi murmur in a distinctly uncomfortable tone. The blurry black smudge of Nezumi's hair is moving around, and so are his black-clad arms. "I'm almost impressed, Shion. I actually can't see through these."

Shion gives an embarrassed sort of chuckle. "Yeah, they're pretty strong. But even with those, my vision is still worse than average."

"Jesus. No wonder you're always tripping over things." Nezumi's face turns towards him, the dark spectacles masking his eyes. "Can you see me?"

"No, my vision is completely black," Shion deadpans. "Of course I can see you. Just not very well. I can distinguish between your skin, hair and clothes - and between general shapes that I assume are your facial features - and I can tell you're still wearing the glasses-"

"I am."

"-but that's about it."

"Hm."

Shion's vision is suddenly restored, and he is greeted by an intense stare from a pair of seemingly luminous grey eyes. "What about now?"

"Uh..." Shion hesitates, suddenly unsure of what to say. "Your face. And you're staring at me weirdly."

Nezumi blinks, then huffs with a smirk, leaning back in his chair. Shion's head turns as he follows the movement. "I wasn't."

"You were."

Nezumi  _tsks_.

There's a brief lull in conversation, during which Nezumi turns the yellowed pages of his book three times. Shion is too busy gazing out of the window to consider asking him what he's reading.

"Hey, Shion," Nezumi says out of the blue, not lifting his gaze from the battered pages.

Shion raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"Shouldn't you be working on our project?"

Lavender eyes narrow. "Shouldn't  _you_?"

Nezumi glances up at that. "I'm the transfer student, you're my guide. You're supposed to lead me through the task, remember?"

"Nezumi! That's so..." Shion fumbles for the right word. After a moment of fruitless searching, he scowls. "You're so stupid."

The taller man's smirk seems to be growing. "Ah, so not only clumsy on your feet, but also with your tongue?"

"Shut up!" Shion swats at the man with annoyance, but the only response he receives is laughter.

* * *

"Shion! Hey, Shion!"

Said man turns at the familiar voice. The corridor is bustling with hungry students eager to reach the front of the lunch queue, but Safu's voice somehow reaches Shion's ears easily.

The short woman strides up to him, defiantly pushing her way through the crowd. "Shion," she repeats.

"Safu, I was looking for you," Shion replies with a smile.

Safu isn't smiling. "You ditched me yesterday."

"Sorry about that," Shion says with a sigh. "I was avoiding people because everyone kept bothering me about Nezumi."

Safu holds Shion's arm in a loose grip as she guides him through the masses of students towards the cafeteria. "I heard about that. But why were they bothering  _you_? It isn't as if you know him." She glances up at her best friend. "Right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Shion agrees after a moment. "I mean, we bumped into each other and talked a bit before class, but I don't know him any more than you do."

The pair march down the busy corridor into the cafeteria and collect their lunch in amiable silence.

Safu is the first to break it. "... Are you sure?" The words are spoken quietly, as if the woman is somehow afraid of the answer.

Violet eyes glance at her reserved tone - so unusual for Safu - in surprise and concern. Unfortunately her expression is hidden from him due to his position behind her in the queue.  _Does it bother her that much?_ Shion thinks.  _I suppose she's just not used to me interacting with other human beings. She's my only friend, after all._  "Yeah, I'm sure." Shion chuckles slightly. "He's quite intimidating, to be honest. I feel safer with you."

"Well, obviously," Safu confirms, her usual conviction returned. "I'm your best friend, and he's a criminal."

Shion laughs as he collects his lunch and finds an empty table. "He does give that impression."

The short girl slides into the adjacent seat beside him, and the mere expression on her face is enough to quell the laughter. "No, I mean it, Shion. That guy's an ex-con."

Shion's jaw goes slack. "But..."

"That's why I'm worried about your interactions with him." She points her fork at him in emphasis.

"Still-" Shion stops. He isn't sure how to take this information. Nezumi has been perfectly nice to him - well, perhaps a little teasing, but nothing more than any other cynical teenager. "What for?"

"Hm?"

Shion places his cutlery down. He suddenly isn't so hungry anymore. "What was he in prison for?"

"Does it matter?" Safu asks, a slight sneer marring her attractive face. "He was  _in prison_. And prison's a tough place. You've got to have a heart of steel to survive there - hell, he could have  _killed_  someone, Shion. That man is dangerous."

"If he'd committed a murder," Shion says slowly, after a short silence, "he wouldn't have been released so soon."

Safu doesn't reply.

* * *

Nezumi tears the bread in half absentmindedly. One half is lifted to his mouth, and he chews it mechanically. It tastes bland. Everything is bland; the bread, the apple, the view of the city over the railings, the icy breeze that bites at his cheeks...

He realises he isn't particularly hungry and parts his lips to breathe out a wisp of a sigh - but quickly stops himself.

Grey eyes slowly shut.

* * *

Shion chews on his pen idly. His class is currently supposed to be listening to a lecture on the nature of various literary devices, but Shion finds that he simply can't concentrate. His mind is bubbling with questions.

_Why did he lie?_

Nezumi told him that he'd just got kicked out of school: a fearsome, but ordinary, occurence, whereas in reality he spent his high school years in prison.

A thought occurs to Shion.  _How does he keep up with classes?_  Shion's lips pull down in a frown.  _He must've missed at least a year of curriculum. Does he do catch-up work?_

 _Or maybe he's just really intelligent. This_ is  _an elite academy, after all._

The rest of the lesson shoots past and before he knows it, one of his rare classes with Nezumi has arrived. They don't sit beside each other, but they're close enough to converse if they want.

"Hey Shion," the taller man asks, turning in his seat.

Shion glances up from his textbook after a moment of hesitation. He isn't sure what he feels towards Nezumi at the moment - why did he lie? If he lied about his background, he could have lied about anything. Even his name. "Uh," he murmurs, "yeah?"

A dark eyebrow rises at his uncomfortable expression, but no comment is made. "Have you done any more work on the World History project?"

"Shion and the transfer student! Stop talking or I'll send you out!"

Shion spares the irritable teacher a glance before shaking his head at Nezumi and refocusing his attention on the classwork. He isn't sure what to say at the moment, now burdened with the secret of Nezumi's criminal past.  _I need to get my mind sorted out._

"... Oh. Okay." Nezumi turns back around with a subtle hint of something strange in his expression. As soon as he's facing forward again, Shion mouths _pissing hell of piss what the hell are you doing for god's sake you stupid dumb crapass_ and Safu is prompted to ask if he's okay.

"I'm fine, I just... can't get a hang of this poem, that's all."

Safu smiles at him. "You can come round my house at the weekend and I can help you, if you like. We need to memorise the analysis for the exam next week."

"Okay," Shion agrees, grinning back at her. He could do with some relaxation time.

"Shion! Safu!" The teacher is glaring at them furiously. " _Out!_ "


	3. Chapter 3

Shion sighs deeply as he gazes out of the glass, his lavender eyes staring unfocused into the middle distance. His attention span over the last two weeks has been shortening something terrible. Shion has always been able to acutely focus his mind, to pinpoint his concentration onto a sharp object of his choice, be it a lesson, a textbook or a recreational activity.

However, recently the young man has found himself far from calm and composed. He's been forgetful, scatterbrained and even irritable, traits which last month would have been totally incompatible with the cool entity that is Shion.

He reluctantly tears his gaze from the glass in an attempt to pay a mite of attentoon to the lesson. However, it's a token effort, as merely thirty seconds later, Shion is once again lost in his own foggy thoughts.

 _I wonder if Nezumi's as bored as I am..._ Shion sighs.  _Then again, it's unlikely. He takes subjects like Drama and English Literature. I imagine they're rarely boring, if you're interested in that kind of stuff. What else did Safu mention he studies...?_ Shion chews his lip. She mentioned it a couple of weeks ago, before he and Nezumi had even met.  _That seems like such a long time ago, a time without Nezumi..._ A flush crawls up Shion's neck and he lowers his head with embarrassment.  _Did I really just think that?_

Shion blinks suddenly, his brow furrowed in confusion and surprise.  _Nezumi? Why him? Why am I thinking about Nezumi now?_

 _Come to think of it..._ He narrows his eyes.  _I've been thinking about Nezumi a lot lately._

He exhales.  _I can't stop thinking about him recently. It's like he just keeps appearing in my mind without my consent, even when he's not at all related to the subject at hand, and he stops me thinking about what I need to be thinking about. I can't think, or work, or concentrate half as well as I used to. And why Nezumi? Why is it_ Nezumi  _who's distracting me like this, rather than Safu, or Mama, or the pot plant I bought at the weekend?_

_Being so confused and not knowing anything; not being able to find the answers to what should be a logical equation..._

_It's frustrating._

* * *

"What do you mean we 'need to build our teamwork skills'?"

The teacher rolls her eyes. "Well you lot might be the top geniuses in the city, but you're hardly what I'd call friendly. In the big, wide world, it's important to have basic people skills if you want to excel in all those high-flying jobs you guys are bound to have."

There is a round of annoyed muttering, but it doesn't take long for their teacher to quiet them down this time.  _It appears they do have some sense in them after all,_ she muses to herself. "So - as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted - none of you will follow normal timetable today, 'cause instead you'll be taking part in some skill-building exercises. Are you all okay with that? Yeah? Good, right, let's go."

Shion and his classmates traipse reluctantly down to the ground floor, where the main hall is located. The hall takes up half the floor, enough to fit a thousand people in assembly, and with only the one class and its teacher in attendance, it seems eerily empty. Shion wraps his viridian cardigan tighter around his skinny figure.

"Right," the teacher announces after herding her students into a small enough space to hear her. "The whole point of these exercises today is to increase skills of cooperation, teamwork and trust, as well as the ability to make sensible decisions and delegate tasks between yourselves. So, for that reason, _I_ will be selecting your groups."

The class doesn't bother to restrain their collective immature groan at the prospect.

She proceeds to roughly sort her students like sheep into seven groups of four - with one remaining. "Ah, transfer student. Where shall I put you..." The teacher smirks. "There, with Miki's group." She gives him a small push on the shoulder and ignores the icy glare he shoots her as he stalks away.

"First activity: raft-building!"

"But miss," one student pipes up, "What's the point? There's no water."

She grimaces at him with frustration, running a hand across her cheek and placing the other firmly on her hip. "Well spotted, there's no water in the hall. But there  _is_  water in the lake bordering the school grounds. You'll assemble your rafts here, simply because sheep are easier to manage in an enclosed space, and then we'll carry the rafts over to the lake and test them out. The raft that can travel the furthest without sinking or capsizing will win the prize."

"What's the prize?"

She grins maliciously. "A no-homework ticket, valid for an entire week."

The students scramble into action.

* * *

"Hey, why are you here? Aren't you with Miki?"

Nezumi stares blankly at the shorter student as if he's having difficulty comprehending the stupidity of his words. After a brief moment he appears to deem them unworthy of a reply and turns away.

"Don't ignore me!"

"I'd like to know too," Safu murmurs through the thick mist of suspicion she's emanating. Hazel eyes narrow at the tall man as she approaches him. "Why  _are_  you here? You're not in this group."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Nezumi replies airily, raising a slender eyebrow at her. "The teacher told me to join Shion's group." He smirks, but the twist of his lips is entirely cold. "Perhaps you misheard? 'Shion' and 'Miki' do share a common vowel sound, after all..."

Safu grits her teeth. However infuriating this transfer student might be, it's best not to start an argument, which would most definitely land her in detention as the teachers would clearly sympathise with Nezumi since he's new. And really, the last thing Safu needs in the middle of her revision for finals in a few months is a detention to mar her shining record.

Her nose wrinkles in distaste, and she turns on her heel as Shion calls for her. She strides away without another word.

"Here, Safu," Shion says as she approaches him. "Help me with the logs."

Their team flies into action, spurred on by the promise of a homework-free week, and even Nezumi lends a hand or two.

"Uh, Shion?" Safu nudges him in the side with the roll of masking tape she's currently fixing the sail with.

Shion starts. "What?" he says, slightly disorientated after being startled out of his daze.

"Concentrate on the task at hand, not on..." Safu follows Shion's line of vision and raises an eyebrow. "Not on  _Nezumi's_ hands."

Shion flinches at the harsh sound of metal pole hitting floor. He glances down and realises it was he who had dropped it. Safu's expression tells him everything he needs to know about what he'd been staring absent-mindedly at. "I wasn't - I mean, I was just..." he trails off, somewhat flustered. "I was thinking, that's all."

He blinks at the masking tape in her hand. "Masking tape?" He looks confused. "Why are you using  _masking tape_?"

When she speaks, Safu's voice is slow and quiet, and her eyes flit between Shion and the offending tape she's holding. "... I thought I was supposed to use masking tape."

Shion groans.

* * *

Safu hefts a corner of the heavy raft onto her shoulder. "Keiichi, you get the front," she gets out between gasps. "Shion and Nezumi get the other side and Ruka get the back. Hurry, my shoulder's about to be dislocated!"

The team hurriedly grab the sides of the makeshift raft and Ruka proceeds to bark out directional orders so that they could fit through the back door of the hall.

Shion feels a little uncomfortable walking directly in front of Nezumi, and feels eyes on the back of his neck. He resists the urge to run and hide.

It doesn't take long for the group to reach the near edge of the field where the small lake is located - what takes the most time, in fact, is trying to place the raft upright on the lake without it capsizing.

"Damn," Shion mutters. "Shouldn't have made the sail so tall. Raises the centre of mass."

"Nothing we can do about it now," Nezumi says from beside him. "I suppose we'll be having to deal with homework for the next week."

Shion turns to him. "You're quite the pessimist. We haven't lost yet."

"You're right." There's a short pause, and then Nezumi raises his hand to point past Shion to the lake. " _Now_ we have."

Shion whips around. "No way," he sighs with disappointment. "I spent so long adjusting that sail."

"What did I tell you? Life's unfair, Shion."

Lavender eyes watch the winning team as they celebrate from the centre of the lake. "Yeah, yeah."

* * *

"Quick! Shion - Shion where's the box? Where's the square box, I need -" He's cut off as a large cardboard cube hits him in the chest.

"Here," Shion warns his teammate belatedly.

Safu sighs irritably. "This is a stupid exercise. What skills, exactly, are 'building a tower very fast' honing?"

"Shut up and help," Ruka snaps. "I'm not losing this round too."

Shion heaves a wobbly stack of six boxes into the tall brown cylinder. "I've got the rest."

"Is this it then?" his teammate asks, also carrying a n armful of large boxes. "We can fill in the gap?"

Ruka nods, golden hair swishing with his movement as he smoothly hoists the last ten boxes into his grasp and piles them up behind Shion, effectively blocking the five high-schoolers in.

Safu glances around, idly readjusting boxes to calm her nerves. "That was unnecessarily stressful."

"Yeah," Shion agrees with a sigh. "And now we're all boxed in."

Nezumi pulls a face of shocked disgust at the shorter man. "... That was a horrible joke."

"Even worse because you said it with this blank look on your face. What are you, a robot?"

Shion blinks at Ruka. "Sorry." He grins sheepishly.

"His sense of humour is worse than mine," Safu mutters. She turns to face the rest of her group and is about to expand on her comment when their tea cher's voice cuts her off.

"Okay everyone," she booms. "I've had a look at everyone's and I've decided that..."she pauses, before adding impatiently, "drum roll please, everyone."

A deep hollow rumble promptly echoes around the large hall as the students drum their hands against the boxes surrounding them.

"...  _Mina's_ group wins!"

Ruka and Safu - along with most of the other occupants of the room - erupt into a barrage of complaints mostly aimed at the teacher's decision methods, but the thick-skinned woman doggedly ignores them and swiftly gathers up her students.

She claps sharply. "Alright everyone - you're ten minutes early, but you may as well go to lunch. There are a few things we still have to do after - what? No, just leave the boxes as they are. Someone else will clear them up. Just piss off to lunchbreak already, you're all annoying me."

* * *

"What good did that do?" Safu complains as she works her way through a large serving of school dinner. "I learned nothing from those tasks. My time would've been much better spent in normal lessons."

Shion smiles slightly at her antics. "I quite enjoyed it, actually."

"You're so strange, Shion." Safu sighs. "How can you find manual labour fun? Mental labour is far more rewarding."

Shion lifts his fork to his mouth, though the massively overpriced and underwhelming spaghetti is difficult to force down. "If you say so, Safu."

"I do say so." She sighs in contentment, placing her cutlery neatly down on her clean plate. "Right, lunch break is nearly over. Should we head down there now? It's good to be early."

"Wait, wait!" Shion calls in panic as she stands up and moves to leave. He shovels three more forkfuls into his mouth and stumbles after her as he swallows it down.

She eyes his half-empty plate. "You should finish that. There's no meat on your bones as it is," she scolds him.

Shion frowns and huffs indignantly. "I don't have a big appetite. And besides, school lunch is hardly appealing."

"You got that right." Safu pulls a face, and Shion laughs.

They dump their trays on the rack and head across the building to the main hall. They wander slowly, taking a detour to pick up a textbook Shion left in his Chemistry lab yesterday, and consequently, by the time they arrive at their destination, lunch break is over.

"So much for bein early," Safu sighs. "Did you really have to pick up that textbook  _now_? We're practically the last ones here."

Shion opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get the defensive words off his tongue, the teacher cuts him off.

"Hey, Safu!" she calls, and waves her over.

"What?"

"Ryo and Ayano aren't here. They're probably in the middle of a lunchtime date and god  _forbid_  I disturb them, so could you find them and drag their asses over here? I know you have a reputation for being strict and intimidating."

Safu blinks, and it's obvious she hadn't realised. "Okay." She nods curtly before heading out of the door with determination.

"Miss, you're just lazy," one student calls out.

"Shut your trap," she barks at him. "And get rid of that pastry. You're not allowed to eat in here."

Shion watches her go, and suddenly finds himself feeling rather out of place. He sighs, mildly irritated with himself for replying so much on his best friend.  _It feels just like when I first came here. It's as if I haven't learned anything at all since I was fifteen._

The white-haired man is standing only a few feet away from his teacher, and so he hears her clearly when she mutters irritably, "For fuck's sake, I don't have time for this."

Shion isn't sure what she's referring to, but the genuine pain in the lines on her face and her hunched position ignites surprise within him. Now that he thinks about it, she's never showed anything more than annoyance in front of her students before. Shion finds himself curious about her background and what she could be so impatient about, but decides it's best not to ask in case it's personal - which, by the looks of things, it probably is.

"Right, everyone," she suddenly announces, her previous vigour restored. "We may as well start the last couple of tasks now. Safu and friends are more than intelligent enough to skip the explanation.

"The exercises you did before lunch were completed in large groups, but these ones you'll complete now will be in pairs, as I imagine there will be plenty of times you'll have to work with a partner in your lives."

"You 'imagine'?" one student mutters, though it apparently goes ignored.

"There's an odd number of students so one of you will have to work with me." She smirks. "So I advise you to choose your partners quickly."

Everone in the class hurries into action - well, everyone except Shion.

 _Dammit, Safu isn't -_ He glances at the teacher. Working with her might be a chance to ask her about what she was previously muttering about, but Shion gets the feeling she wouldn't respond well to that sort of question from someone like him. He chews his lip. The rest of the class are quickly finding a parntner, but Shion's only friend is Safu, who still hasn't returned, and he doubts any of his classmates would willingly pair up with him over their own friends.

He resigns himself to his fate.  _I suppose I'll just volunteer and save everyone else the panic..._ He takes a step towards her, but a strong hand grips his shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Shion inhales quickly in surprise at the voice, and the sudden rush of oxygen makes him lightheaded. He stumbles, but another hand holds his arm and he manages not to fall and embarrass himself. "You -" He looks up, slightly stunned, and readjusts his glasses. "Oh."

"' _Oh_ '?" Nezumi mocks irritably. "Am I not good enough for you or something?"

"What? No! That's n-not -" Shion stutters. "I mean, I'm just surprised."

A dark eyebrow rises, and Nezumi tucks his pale hands back into his pockets. "Why? Have you been 'surprised' all week? Is that why you've been acting weirdly?"

Shion blinks, and his jaw goes slack. "No, I -"  _Shit. I can't tell him it's because he hurt my feelings, for god's sake. Shion, you idiot._  "You... It's nothing," he finishes, somewhat pathetically.

Nezumi's glare is harsh. "If you're not going to tell me and hide behind 'it's nothing', then at least  _act_ like it's nothing."

The heat is creeping up Shion's neck and across his cheeks. He's sure Nezumi can see it. "Okay."

Nezumi  _hmphs_ , and appears to calm down - at least, outwardly. Shion remains completely in the dark about Nezumi's innermost thoughts and feelings.

Shion almost turns to apologise, but then remembers why he's angry at Nezumi in the first place. He keeps his mouth shut.

"Why were you surprised?" Nezumi mutters.

Violet eyes glance up, but Nezumi is staring directly ahead and avoiding eye contact.

"Just," Shion starts cautiously, "you've been at this school for a couple of weeks now, and I thought you... I don't know, you just seem like someone who can make a lot of friends easily, and I don't know why you... partnered with me. Especially after..."  _Especially after my behaviour recently._

Nezumi pulls a mocking face at him, but his quiet snort of a laugh feels genuine. "You obviously have the wrong impression of me." His voice loses the sneering tone. "And you really ought to work on those self-esteem issues of yours."

"I don't -" Shion attempts to argue the contrary - on both topics - but at that moment, the hall door bursts open, revealing a rather angry Safu and two embarrassed students, who Shion assumes are Ryo and Ayano.

"Ah, you're back," the teacher greets. "Safu, you can work with Ryo; Ayano, you'll be with me. No, before you say it, I'm not letting you two group together. I'm sure  _your_  teamwork skills are perfectly honed."

The class sniggers slightly

"Right, is everyone in pairs? The first task then. How easy it is really depends on your personality, so I won't put you in detention if you fail this one."

Shion glances nervously at his partner, who in contrast seems entirely relaxed.

"It's the classic trust exercise; you know, the one where you fall backwards and the other person catches you. Trust is an important part of working in a group. You have to learn to spilt up tasks among yourselves and the trust the other members of the group to complete their tasks on time and to an appropriate standard. You can't get anywhere if you can't simply trust each other."

 _That's not too bad,_ Shion thinks, though he's still more than a little uncertain. Even just _being around_  Nezumi is stressful, let alone  _working_  with him. _Plus after just finding out about his criminal record - which, not to mention he_ didn't tell me about. _.. Do I really trust him?_

"You want to fall first?" Nezumi really does appear remarkably relaxed, and there's even a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Shion can't help but wonder if Nezumi's somehow enjoying this, despite seeing how clearly uncomfortable Shion is.

 _Perhaps that's exactly the reason why he's enjoying it. Sadistic._ Shion shakes off the angry thought.

"Okay," the shorter man agrees hesitantly, though he's not too sure he'll be able to fall without catching himself. The amount Shion knows about Nezumi is infinitely tiny (and it turns out, even smaller than he'd originally thought) and despite Shion's current opinion that Nezumi is a good person, he's so elusive and mysterious that Shion can't help but doubt whether he's a good judge of character.

Again, just like when they carried the raft, standing with his back to Nezumi makes him intensely anxious.  _Actually_ , Shion belatedly realises,  _many things make me anxious when they involve Nezumi._

"Three, two, one..."

Shion shuts his eyes tightly, draws in a breath, and falls.

He can't help squeaking in shock when his back is met not by cold floor but by warm chest, and his arms are held easily in that unexpectedly strong grip.

He opens his eyes and pants out a quick breath.

"Had you worried for a second there, did I?" Nezumi's voice is close to Shion's ear, and has more than a tinge of hidden laughter laced among its tones.

Shion somehow pushes himself up so he's supporting his own weight. His brow furrows with annoyance. "I just didn't want to fall, that's all."

"Whatever you say," Nezumi responds, though he sounds nothing close to convinced.

"It's your turn," Shion half-snaps, and folds his arms.

"Hm," Nezumi hums thoughtfully, "Maybe I shouldn't have wound you up just before I put my dignity in your hands."

Shion attempts to suppress a grin, but he fails miserably, and his facade of anger is shattered. He unfolds his arms and gestures for Nezumi to stand in front of him.

Nezumi follows Shion's lead, and begins the countdown, which Shion had forgotten in his moment of panic. "Three, two -"

"Wait!" Shion suddenly cuts Nezumi off in a panic. "What if I can't catch you? I'm not that strong -"

"Shut up," Nezumi sighs, glancing behind him. "I'm not  _that_  heavy, Jesus."

"But -"

But before Shion can finish his protest, Nezumi is falling towards him. Shion opens his mouth in a soundless shriek of shock and reaches out.

His arms loop perfectly under Nezumi's, and his balance is hardly disrupted at all.

"There!"

Shion glances wildly to his side, his nerves still frayed from Nezumi's unexpected fall. "What -"

Their teacher is pointing at them. "You two, Shion and Transfer! That was perfect! Transfer, fall again so the class can see what's supposed to happen. It seems hardly anyone can complete even a simple task like this."

Nezumi is standing upright now, and Shion is frozen with arms still extended. The class is quiet. Shion catches Safu's eye. Her expression is... calculating.

The taller man sighs and turns back around, and Shion snaps out of his daydream. He can feel the pressure of his classmates' eyes on him, but he pinpoints his concentration on the dark haired man in front of him, who is so at ease he hasn't even bothered to take his hands out of his pockets.

 _But if I miss, he won't be able to catch himself in time..._  Shion stops.

_He trusts me._

"Oof," Shion grunts as Nezumi's weight hits him. He blinks; Nezumi must've fallen, because he's currently  _relaxing_  against him, held up by Shion's support.

"Perfect!" The teacher laughs. "It's like you two are on the same psychic wavelength or something. You didn't even do a countdown."

Shion almost falls forward when the warm weight on his chest is suddenly removed. He didn't realise he subconsciously adjusted to Nezumi's weight.

 _Nezumi was right,_  Shion muses. _He's not very heavy._

The class have returned to the exercise and there's now a bubble of raucous noise filling the large hall.

"You should eat more," Nezumi comments, out of the blue, from beside him.

Shion looks at him, unsure what to feel.  _Is he concerned about my health or insulting me?_

"You were too easy to catch. You barely weigh more than my sister, and she's tiny."

The older man initially opens his mouth with the intention of arguing that he eats fine,  _thank you very much_ , but somewhere between his brain and his mouth the words get jumbled up and it comes out as, "You have a sister?"

Nezumi looks down at him with an unreadable expression. "Yeah. What of it?"

"Oh, nothing," Shion replies. "I just... didn't know."

"Does it matter?"

Shion stares at the taller man for a moment, but he gets the distinct feeling that even if he stared into those stormy grey eyes for eternity, he would never be able to decipher his thoughts. "... No, not really." A small smile graces his lips as a thought occurs to him. "You know, Nezumi, I'm not surprised you're a Drama major."

Said man raises his eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"Mm, you must be a good performer. The way you fell earlier was very elegant."

"The way I  _fell_?" Nezumi shoots him a look of incredulity. "It wasn't. You're insane."

Shion frowns. "It was, you don't ha -"

"And we have another winner! Congratulations, Safu, Ryo. That was almost as exceptional as Shion and Transfer."

Safu, having now gotten the tedious task out of the way, gets right down to business. She strides over to Nezumi and fixes him with a fiery glare.

Shion blinks at her.  _Why is she being so hostile?_ "Safu -"

"What _is_  it about you?"

Shion blinks, and looks between Safu and Nezumi, who seem to be taking part in some silent glaring battle.

"You're suspicious," Safu continues. "You don't seem the trusting type at all. So why did you trust Shion like that? I don't believe it. I know you're hiding something."

"Oh really?" Nezumi challenges, his calm demeanor not fooling anyone.

"Yes," Safu states. "And I'm going to find out what it is. You can trust me on that one."

Shion wants -  _needs_  - to interfere, but his sensibility advises him not to as for some reason he feels like the combined scariness of Safu and Nezumi is worse than the face of hell itself.


	4. Chapter 4

Shion purses his lips. "Hm..." Violet eyes narrow threateningly as the corners of his mouth turn down. "No," he mumbles. "I don't  _believe_  you."

"What did that broccoli ever do to you?"

Shion starts, and the fork tumbles out of his hand, crashing back onto his plate with a splash of gravy. "Safu, what did I say about sneaking up on me like that?"

His best friend slides into the seat beside him with a smirk. "Sorry. You just looked so silly I couldn't help myself."

"Thanks," Shion grumbles, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"What did you mean?" she asks suddenly as she tucks into her lunch. "When you said 'I don't believe you', that is."

Shion's words lodge in his throat and his mouth is left hanging open as his brain tries to process the question. What  _did_  he mean? He hadn't even been aware that he was speaking out loud. "Uh, I don't..." He mentally berates himself for being so cowardly, and huffs at his childish behaviour.  _Nothing will ever be solved if you're too afraid to take action._

"You don't what?" Safu pushes. Her eyes are once again gleaming with that calculating look, as if she's trying to psychoanalyse him on the spot.

"I don't believe you," Shion repeats, the words stumbling awkwardly out of his mouth. The only difference is that this time the words are not aimed at his inanimate vegetables. They're aimed at Safu.

She narrows her eyes. "Are you addressing me now?"

Shion turns to her and forces himself to make eye contact. Safu is a confident and direct sort of person; she dismisses your arguments entirely if you are too timid in making them. "Yes."

"What don't you believe me about? I don't lie, you know that." She doesn't sound offended in the slightest, only curious.

"When you said that Nezumi is an... an ex-con. It doesn't seem right."

Deep brown eyes blink once. "Oh, so that's what this is about." She turns from him to face the window in front of her. "I see now."

Shion is confused by her reaction, but he doesn't let himself become sidetracked. "Is it true? Do you have proof?"

"Of course I have proof," she sighs indignantly. "I don't start rumours. I state facts."

"Then what is your proof? How can you be totally sure that he was in prison?"

Safu casts a cursory glance around the room before speaking in a low voice. "I hacked into the government records."

Shion spits out his coffee. "Safu!" he exclaims loudly. "You can't do that!"

"Keep your voice down!" she hisses at him, and Shion quickly remembers where they are.

"But why?" he whispers. "And what if you're found out? There could be serious consequences!"

Safu shrugs, as if she hadn't just broken a few major laws. "He seemed like a suspicious character, and I trust my instincts. It turns out I had - and still have - a good reason to be concerned, especially since you two seem to be becoming fast friends." She smirks. "And don't worry about the consequences; I made sure to cover my tracks. And yes, I'm well aware of the irony of getting arrested while checking to see if someone else was arrested."

The man's jaw is slack, and the calm stream of words had stopped entering his brain a while ago. He's in shock. Shion simply can't believe it; Safu hacked into the _official government record_  to check up on someone -  _without their permission_  - just because she had a  _hunch_?

He stands, his palms coming into contact with the table a little harder than perhaps was necessary. He picks up the remainders of his lunch silently, not trusting himself to speak civilly to his best friend at that moment.  _I know it's illogical,_ he thinks as he dumps the tray noisily on the rack,  _but for some reason the fact that Safu did that just really pisses me off._

"Shion?" she calls after him as he makes to leave. "Shion, what's wrong with you?"

He grits his teeth, wincing at the ugly sound as his molars grind together. His arms are trembling now from anger, and the thought of  _this is illogical_  has long since fled his mind.

Safu approaches him with an air of annoyance, blissfully unaware of her best friend's current mental state. "Seriously, Shion, I know you don't like breaking rules, but this is a bit of an overreaction, isn't it? I mean, it's not even like you two are particularly -"

"Shut up."

Safu balks, and immediately takes on a defensive stance, sensing the danger.

"What would you know?" Shion spits venemously, and Safu can see the fiery heat of his glare even through his glasses. "You don't have secrets, Safu. You don't care if people find out personal information about you; it doesn't  _bother_  you. But sometimes you're so caught up in your own little perfect Safu-world that you forget about other people!"

With the sudden absence of Shion's raised voice, Safu notices the silence in the hall around them.

Shion is practically baring his teeth at her, and his voice has taken on an uncharacteristically rough tone. "That was an  _invasion of Nezumi's privacy._ There was a  _reason_  he hid it from everyone, Safu - everyone, you, me, maybe even the teachers - and you just take it into your own hands and decide that his cares and personal decisions about his _own personal life_  don't matter, as if - as if you think you're  _better_  than him or something!" he snarls, reminding Safu of an aggravated animal.

"Shion, I didn't -"

" _I don't care!_ "

Safu winces at the feral snarl.

Shion feels a deep rumble of a growl in his throat as he pulls his arm back, and swings forward -

\- and stops himself just short. He freezes for a moment, fist extended towards her face as she stands before him, unflinching but obviously scared.

Shion panics, forgets to breathe and quickly flees from the hall.

* * *

A small sigh escapes her lips for the nth time that afternoon. Safu had not been ready for lessons after her argument with Shion, and to be honest she is still a little unsettled even now, an hour later.

Safu has seen Shion express many different emotions under many different circumstances. She has seen him laugh to the point of tears and she's seen him cry his eyes out in pain until he threw up. She's seen him run, terrified, from his bullies, and she has seen him beat his bullies up.

Not once had she ever expected one of those punches to be aimed at  _her_.

She sighs again, and curls further into herself as protection against the chilly wind. She doesn't know why she came up to the roof; she doesn't like it here. This is  _Shion's_  spot.

 _Dammit_ , she thinks irritably.  _What has that Nezumi guy been doing to him to make him snap like that?_

She stands and brushes the dirt off her skirt resolutely. If she doesn't know the answer to a question, what does she do? Wait around for the answer to mysteriously appear before her, or seek out someone who knows?

* * *

"Oi, Nezumi."

The dark figure pauses, but doesn't turn. After a moment, he says, "It's not like you to skip class." His words are teasing, but his voice is cold.

Safu sneers at his back. This guy is  _really_  beginning to annoy her. She stands her ground in the empty corridor. "Shion."

Nezumi turns, as if she'd called his own name. "What about him?" he says dismissively, though appears a little more alert when she begins striding up to him until she has him backed up against the wall.

"What's going on with you two?" She asks, her voice reasonably calm considering she's pinning the most dangerous man in the school against a wall.

Thin lips turn up into a cutting smirk. Nezumi draws himself up a little higher, emphasising the intimidating height difference. "Why? Are you jealous?"

Safu can't help herself, suddenly overcome with an intense desire to wipe that smug smirk right off the infuriating student's face.

Surprisingly, he doesn't duck her punch, taking it right against his cheekbone and only wincing slightly when his head slams against the wall behind him, and Safu can feel the vibrations of it through the floor.

Safu's breathing is slightly laboured as she takes a step back, as if to inspect her handiwork. She remains quiet, waiting for Nezumi's next move.

He touches his left fingertips to his injured cheek, and when he brings them down they are smeared with red. He frowns, moving the hand to rub tentatively against the point of contact on the back of his head. He spares the short woman a thoughtful glance before muttering, "You're stronger than you look."

Safu is not expecting this response. She suddenly finds herself without words.

Nezumi stares intently at her for an entire minute, the tension as thick as butter. When it becomes clear Safu isn't going to say anything, he snaps, "What? Is that it? There's no meaningful message of life that you want to convey to me through the rough but effective medium of violence?" His mocking voice reeks of sarcasm, but there is no hint of anger within it.

This only serves to confuse Safu further.

He huffs at her with condescension, and begins to saunter away, as if he's already forgotten that he's just been punched almost into a concussion.

As if as an afterthought, the black-haired man calls over his shoulder, "You might want to distance yourself from that wall before someone sees you with it."

Safu isn't quite sure what he's talking about, and for a spilt second entertains the idea that perhaps everyone in the world is just going insane - but then she glances at the aforementioned wall and chestnut eyes widen in shock.

It appears she punched Nezumi a little harder than intended, because there's a cracked circular indent in the plaster at around Nezumi's head height. Safu isn't sure whether she's glad it's a partition wall or not. On the one hand, if she'd smashed Nezumi's skull into a brick wall perhaps he would've been concussed or seriously injured; but on the other hand, she wouldn't have to explain this dent to the staff.

A difficult decision, to be sure.

* * *

Safu wanders slowly to her next class. Punching Nezumi had helped calm her quite a bit, despite the small bud of guilt blooming in her chest.

She isn't sure what to do as she waits restlessly outside the closed classroom door. Nezumi and she had parted ways at least half an hour ago, which would've given him plenty of time to inform their class teacher - or perhaps even the headmistress - about the rather one-sided fistfight between them.

Safu isn't looking forward to having to explain herself to either of the intimidating women.

A soft sound echoes down the corridor as she inhales deeply in mental preparation. She opens the door.

Making her way to her seat behind Shion, she realises more distinctly with every step that her teacher has no idea about what happened. She doesn't even earn a bored glance.

Safu chews her lip as she bores holes in the back of Shion's snowy head with her intense gaze. She ponders his reaction if she attempted to talk to him so soon after their argument.

Her need to speak about what happened wins out quickly, and she leans forward to whisper onto his shoulder, "Shion. I need to talk to you."

Shion stiffens momentarily and Safu almost thinks he'll continue to ignore her - but then he turns.

His expression is heavy with shame.

"Look, Shion... I'm sorry about what I did. I know I had no right, but I was worried about you. I just..." She pauses. Admitting she's wrong is something Safu finds immensely difficult. "I just handled the situation incorrectly."

Shion shakes his head at her, twisting further around in his seat. "No, it's not your fault. I completely overreacted, and I shouldn't have shouted at you like that. I was just irritated with myself, and I took it out on you. And I  _definitely_ shouldn't have tried to punch you. I'm really sorry."

Safu smiles slightly. "It's okay, Shion. Really. And besides," she adds in a quieter tone, "I'm not exactly innocent of violence today either."

A white eyebrow is raised. "What do you mean?"

She purses her lips, breaking eye contact momentarily. "I punched Nezumi."

Shion's jaw drops. "You  _what_?"

"I went to talk to him after we... after our argument earlier."

Shion nods slowly in realisation. "That's why you weren't in class third period."

Safu hums an affirmative. "And I was still sort of angry, and I just... hit him. But that's not the strange part." She casts a glance to the seat in front of Shion, where Nezumi normally sits - but it's empty.

Shion is watching with a mixture of interest and secondhand pain (probably from imagining scenes of Safu beating up his new classmate), his violet eyes urging her to continue.

"The thing is, Nezumi didn't even tell anyone. I would've thought he would rat me out to a teacher. It would provide him with a lot of entertainment watching someone like me get pummelled by the headmistress."

Shion makes a sound. It has a sense of surprise and confusion which almost - but not quite - covers the tinge of amusement, which Safu decides to ignore. "Yeah, that's strange," he murmurs.

Safu sighs, closing her eyes briefly as she places her chin in her palm. "Shion. You and Nezumi... Are you... Is there something going on?"

"What do you mean?"

As far as Safu can tell, his confusion is genuine. She mentally curses him for being so dense. "I mean, Shion..." She sighs. How is she supposed to say this tactfully? "Do you... like him?"

Shion's expression morphs into one of caution. "'Like'... As in...?"

"As in  _like_  like."

Shion has the grace to blush, but shakes his head. "No, he's just... a friend. An interesting friend."

"Oh. Okay," Safu responds. She considers Shion. He said he doesn't have anything more than platonic interest in the dark-haired man, but his response was hesitant and his voice unusually quiet.

Chestnut eyes narrow.  _Maybe..._

* * *

"Today, class, we're going to start learning about the Cold War. Unfortunately, this class is a little behind on the topics so we're going to have to rush a bit. I expect you all to concentrate to make sure you know as much as you can for finals - yes, this topic will appear in your exam." The teacher leans further back into his chair and takes a few papers into his hands from on top of his desk. "I assume everyone has finished their projects now? I will be expecting you to hand them in to me in pairs as you leave the classroom at the end of the lesson." The older man casts a sharp glance around the room as he picks out the most nervous facial expressions. "If you  _haven't_ finished it... Well, depending on how much work you've done, I'll decide an appropriate punishment for you."

Shion puffs out a hopeless sigh as his mind provides him with unwanted images of the horribly tedious tasks he could be assigned with.

Needless to say, he and Nezumi haven't finished the project.

Shion sneaks a subtle glance at the younger man to his right. Nezumi appears as nonchalant as always, slumped back down into his chair in order to have the easiest view of the book he's reading under the desk. Shion notes absently that this book is one he's never seen Nezumi read before. The pages are stark white and stiff when he turns them - a contrast to Nezumi's usual yellowed, dog-eared and well-loved tomes.

"Is it new?"

Nezumi blinks once at the murmured question, then glances up to meet the lavender gaze. "What?"

"The book." Shion gestures to it. "It's new, right? You haven't read it before?"

There's a brief pause as Nezumi raises a bemused eyebrow. "... Yeah, it's new."

A small burst of warmth blooms in Shion's chest, and he can't resist the small smile. "Is it good?"

Nezumi shrugs. "Some of the characters are a bit flat, and the sex scenes are pretty unrealistic, but the plot is interesting enough, I guess." His brow furrows as he notices Shion's cheeks are stained deep crimson. "What?"

"You..." Shion clears his throat out of embarrassment.  _I can't believe this guy sometimes._ "You read... that kind of stuff... in public?"

The dark-haired man appears to catch on, and is instantly smirking. "Yeah, what of it?" As the blush is joined by wide violet eyes and a look of confused shock, Nezumi chuckles quietly. "Hey, don't go all blushing virgin on me."

However, his words have the opposite effect, and if Shion wasn't beet red before, he certainly is now. "Hey, I'm not-" he starts defiantly, but quickly realises what he was about to say, and cuts himself off with an indignant huff. "I just wouldn't be able to... do that. Reading that sort of stuff when there are people around would just be extremely uncomfortable."

Nezumi frowns, as if considering it. "I suppose it can be a bit off-putting while I'm trying to hold a conversation, but..."

Shion balks, and it takes  _a lot_  of effort not to ask if this is one of those conversations. He isn't quite sure that he wants to know.

Nezumi makes no attempt to continue talking, and Shion is feeling far too awkward from the recent revelation to try for small talk, so the pair fall into amiable silence for most of the lesson. The younger man smoothly flips the pages of his new book; Shion notices that his reading speed is impressively quick, judging by the frequency that the pristine pages are turned.

Shion sighs and slumps further forward into his seat as he scrawls untidy notes into his notepad. He feels oddly detached, as if his brain is absorbing the lecture and taking notes by itself, while Shion is left stranded in his vividly absorbing daydreams.

Nezumi, on the other hand, makes no move to take any notes at all.

_Oh my-_

A bolt of electricity shoots down Shion's spine. He shivers. Violet eyes struggle to resist glacing down at his leg, but somehow he manages. The shocking feeling doesn't come again for a good minute, and Shion assumes he must have imagined the sensation - but then there is another, firmer touch, and Shion is  _certain_  that that is the feeling of Nezumi's knee against his thigh.

Shion shoots a sharp glance at his neighbour. Nezumi is hunched comfortably low in his seat, hands on his book under the edge of the desk and legs disappearing under it - the exact same position he was in twenty minutes ago.

_What the hell?_

Nezumi suddenly clears his throat, and Shion jumps, immediately cursing his own sensitivity and inwardly cringing. _Come on, Shion! So what if you bumped knees? That happens all the time! It's nothing to get all..._ frazzled _about!_

Because Shion definitely does feel rather frazzled. He isn't sure what's going on at the moment, or whether his desk partner has even realised what he's doing, but he knows that if Nezumi doesn't move that damn leg away soon Shion is going to scream.

Thin lips pull down as he glowers at the wall.  _Well, Nezumi, two can play at that game._

He readjusts his right leg just slightly; a small enough move to seem natural but jostling enough that Nezumi visibly loses his focus on the book.

Shion is  _very_  close to letting out an unmanly squeak when suddenly a warm calf is pressed flush against his own from knee to ankle. If Nezumi's actions weren't deliberate before, they most surely are now; Shion chances a glance at the dark-haired man only to find him positively  _smirking_.

 _I knew it!_  Shion thinks, nerves highly strung with a feeling that he can't quite explain and that makes his heart race as it flounders around in his chest in a panic.  _What is he trying to do? Embarrass me in public?_

He shifts his leg again, this time far less subtly as the jig is obviously up, and moves to intertwine their ankles, pulling Nezumi slightly towards him. Each move is tentative and uncertain, and Shion prays Nezumi can't feel him trembling.  _What am I doing?_

Nezumi appears a little surprised at the bold movement, blinking and coughing to conceal what was probably a noise of shock.

"Nezumi, can you read the passage on page thirty-seven to the class, please."

Both students start at the wiry sound of their World History teacher's voice, and their legs shoot apart like  _bullets_.

Shion manages to catch the leg of the desk with his foot and he cringes at the loud sound, which ricochets around the expectant silence of the classroom.

"U-Um-" Nezumi stutters into motion like an old car. He clears his throat as grey eyes scour Shion's textbook. "I-I'm sorry, sir, can you, uh, repeat that? Please?" he adds quickly and pulls himself up straighter from his slouch.

Shion can't help staring at the taller man. This awkward stammer that tumbled out of his mouth - it's just so unlike Nezumi. Nezumi, the man of smooth words and sharp, witty comments. Nezumi, the man with a snake's tongue. Nezumi, fumbling over his words in class?

 _No_ , Shion thinks, _it just doesn't fit_.

* * *

"Nezumi!" Shion calls as a sea of students rushes to leave the stuffy classroom.

Nezumi pauses a little way down the corridor and turns to wait rather impatiently as Shion struggles to push through the chaotic crowd.

 _It's okay_ , Shion reassures himself.  _Just act like the leg-touching thing was totally normal. Or, even better, that it didn't happen at all. Yeah. Nothing happened, you're just going to ask a friend if they're okay, because you're worried. That's it._

"Nezumi," he repeats on arrival at Nezumi's side, and the pair fall into step beside each other.

"What? Is that all you can say now? 'Nezumi'?" he mocks, but there is a certain warmth to his eyes.

Shion scowls, but quickly remembers what he wanted to ask about. "Uh... You know," he starts, drawing up the dredges of his confidence, "you seem like the cool, calm and collected type. Even when you're angry, you're calm about it. I can't really imagine you shouting or screaming or crying or laughing hysterically."

He glances up to judge Nezumi's reaction, and is greeted by a raised eyebrow and a silence that encourages him to get to the point. Shion quickly lowers his gaze to his hands, which he's wringing nervously.

"Well, because of that, I... It just seemed sort of... out of character, I guess, when, earlier, you... got all flustered. In class, when Mr. Hendrick called on you."

For a moment, Nezumi doesn't react, and Shion thinks that perhaps he isn't listening - but then he sighs deeply and roughly, and his expression when Shion looks his way is cold. "I was thinking. He startled me."

Shion raises an eyebrow, though is slightly unsettled by the sudden change in temperature. "Really? Are you sure?" He intends to stop there, before he pushes this mysterious and frankly intimidating enigma too far, but his stupid mouth won't shut and he finds himself blabbering, "Are you sure you're okay? Because it didn't look like you were just 'thinking' to me."

Shion immediately regrets saying it and mentally slaps himself. _You moron!_

"Why is it any of your business?" Nezumi's voice is sharp and Shion feels like he's just been sliced open with an icicle. It stings.

 _Can't give up now, I suppose._ "I was just concerned about you."

Nezumi glares blankly at him. "I never asked for your concern. I don't need it. I'm not a sensitive, sheltered kid like you." With that, he increases his pace and strides away.

Shion doesn't bother following. The white-haired man slows to a stop and stares after the retreating figure, absently clutching at the unpleasant feeling in his stomach. He is - quite stupidly, he realises - surprised at the sudden icy behaviour. Shion can't even find it in himself to protest being called a 'kid'.

_You jerk... I'll be as concerned about you as I want._

* * *

"Shion?"

He starts at the hushed whisper from beside him. "Safu? What is it?"

She shakes her head. "Your movements are sluggish and you're sighing every few minutes, not to mention you keep rubbing at your left knee, which I know tends to flare up when you're not feeling well." She pauses, and bites her lip. "You just seem..."

Shion cracks a smile, despite the heaviness in his chest. "I appreciate that you're worried, but it's really nothing. I'm fine."

"But-"

"Really," he cuts her off firmly. "I'm just... nervous for tomorrow's test."

Safu nods slowly. "Okay. If it helps, you can borrow my notes?"

"Thank you. I'd like that."

Shion tries his best to reign in his sighs for the rest of the lesson; Safu is suspicious of Nezumi enough as it is. Shion doesn't want to add to her worry for him and her growing dislike of Nezumi by burdening her with his mundane troubles.

Still, for the rest of the day - through Ecology, after class, in the library, at home and even in bed that night - he can't help thinking about what caused such a one-eighty in his new friend's attitude towards him.


	5. Chapter 5

"Woah, Nezumi! What happened to your face?"

Safu watches nervously as students flock around him. Two days was plenty of time for their...  _disagreement_  to become very, very obvious in the form of a deep purple bruise accompanied by scarlet scab across his left cheekbone. She winces. It looks painful.

"Seriously," another student is saying as she bends over to peer at it intrusively. Nezumi shies away from his friendly classmate, though she seems oblivious. "Did you get into a street fight or something?"

Her boyfriend laughs. "It's an impressive bruise, that's for sure!"

Nezumi glowers out of the window. After a brief pause, he says, "... I fell."

The laughter increases in volume. "No  _way_."

A sharp sound echoes around the room as Nezumi slaps a prying hand away. "Don't touch it," he growls.

"Hey, sorry. Didn't realise it was that sore... Oh man, it's swollen! Look," he addresses his friends, ushering them over (to Nezumi's chagrin). "From this angle, you can really see it's swollen."

Nezumi sighs irritably. "Have none of you ever seen a bruise before?"

"Not one as bad as that!"

The longer the pre-class conversation continues, the guiltier Safu feels. It had just been a brief moment of misdirected anger - anger at Shion's behaviour more than Nezumi's, really - and the man had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, teasing the wrong person. She sighs.  _Maybe I should apologise. If for no other reason than to make sure he doesn't get me in detention - or worse, suspended._

Chancing a glance over at the tall man, she quickly decides that now is not the appropriate time to do so, however, as Nezumi is stubbornly refusing to admit who punched him, adamant that he simply 'fell' - to his classmates' amusement.

_I'll apologise after class_.

A thought suddenly occurs to her, and she sits up a little straighter.  _Class. It's the beginning of class. The teacher's late._  She narrows her eyes imperceptibly.  _And so is Shion_.

She wonders vaguely if he overslept; it's one of Shion's bad habits. Usually she would know because they walk to school together - understandable since they live in the same street - but today Safu had texted Shion saying she'd be getting a lift from her grandmother, who was driving down to the lake to go fishing with a friend.

She belatedly realises she never received a reply.

_I wonder if he's okay? He did seem a little spacey yesterday..._ Her brow knits at the thought.  _He's been so unpredictable lately_.

There's a small click as the door opens and their homeroom teacher stumbles into the classroom looking uncharacteristically unkempt. "Okay, okay, everyone, I'm here now. You can all shut up while I do rollcall."

Safu blinks lazily as the teacher runs quickly through the list of names, her monotonous voice a mindless drone in the background of her thoughts. It drifts so far into the background that Safu almost misses her name, and quickly stammers, "Uh, here," and clears her throat. After recovering from her surprise, she sighs and unconsciously purses her lips in deep thought, her chin coming to rest on her left palm.

"Shion."

It's silent. Safu perks up.

"... Okay, one absent."

Safu narrows her eyes. She resists the urge to roll them at the thought that Shion overslept again, but inside she's irrationally concerned.  _It's not like anything could have happened to him. Stop being ridiculous_ , she scolds herself, but she can't quite bring herself to believe the words.

* * *

Halfway through third period, Safu's worries get the better of her. She conveniently sits in the back row and her teacher is concentrating on teaching the class about the global aftereffects of deforestation; but Safu has read ahead and is already fully informed of the potential consequences of humanity's selfish actions.

She smoothly reaches down and pulls out her phone from the front pocket of her schoolbag. Inwardly, she curses Shion for distracting her from lessons and making her break the school rules like this as she begins to text. She leans further back into her chair so that the downwards inclination of her head is less obvious, and turns her attention to the small letter keys that are too far away from her eyes.

Slender fingers quickly type,  _Where are you?_

Checking to make sure her phone is on silent, she stares impatiently at the whiteboard as she waits for a response. She recieves one surprisingly quickly.

_Home. Overslept and ill. Coming at lunch_

She furrows her brow.  _Why are you coming into school if you're ill? Stay at home._

_Important exam prep p5, can't miss it,_  the swift reply reads. Safu begins to type, but her message is interrupted by another text, added on seemingly as an afterthought:  _Texting during class?_

Safu can't help the small smirk, but delays her reply as she notices the teacher striding in her direction. She places the phone in her lap between the folds of her skirt and tries not to look too suspicious, not bothering to correct her lazy slouch.

"Safu," her Geography teacher's voice murmurs quietly, with a hint of surprise overshadowing her annoyance. "Use of cellphones is forbidden during class. You know that," she says disapprovingly.

Safu sits up straighter at the accusation. "I wasn't using my ph-"  _Clack_.

The teacher raises an eyebrow at the phone now on the floor, then glances back up to meet Safu's embarrassed gaze and folds her arms. "You weren't using your phone, eh?"

Safu stays quiet and breaks eye contact.

The teacher sighs, bending to pick up the device from where it had fallen out of Safu's lap and, to Safu's surprise, returns it to her. "Since it's you, Safu, I'll overlook this. But don't let me catch you with it again."

"Yes, miss," Safu mumbles, accepting her phone with some chagrin and slipping it back into her bag.

The rest of the lesson is spent silently fuming in embarrassment at having been caught, and as she hurries to leave the classroom, she decides she isn't cut out for all this rule-breaking business.

* * *

Chestnut eyes flick around in an attempt to catch sight of Shion's elusive new friend. She ignores the curious glances as she turns around on the spot in the centre of the corridor and focuses her attention on searching for the man she really would rather not be searching for.

"Ruka," she calls on a whim as the lanky blonde passes her.

He raises an eyebrow. "Safu? What a surprise," he says dryly, though with a hint of curiosity. "What do you want?"

She fingers the lapel of her coat restlessly. "Have you seen Nezumi? I wanted to speak to him after class, but as soon as he got out of the door he just... vanished."

"Nezumi, huh." Ruka purses his lips in thought. "I didn't see him, but if you're looking for him, he's most likely somewhere without people. It seems that guy really values his personal space."

Safu nods slowly, before straightening her posture resolutely. "Okay."

She abruptly turns on her heel and strides back down the way she came, ignoring the annoyed drawl of, "A 'thank you' wouldn't hurt!" from behind her.

_Someplace without people, eh..._  She hums in thought.  _It's lunchbreak, so there are people everywhere. Even in some of the classrooms, if they can't bear the canteen. Plus it's sunny and warm today, so there are lots of people outside..._

Her eyes widen fractionally and she subconsciously increases her pace until she is almost speeding down the sparsely-populated halls. _If I factor in his connection with Shion..._

She pushes through the heavy-duty door, unmindful of the No Access To Students sign pasted across it, without even glancing around to double-check her privacy. Safu has the best reputation in the school amongst the staff, and she doubts any would call her out on this minor slip-up.

Safu has only been up to the roof once since she began the school, and that was when she was looking for Shion so he could help her reject a boy's love confession. In the end, Shion wasn't much help and had insisted it would be better if she were to tell the boy herself that his feelings weren't requited.

Needless to say, the roof doesn't exactly hold many happy memories for her -not like it does for Shion (or at least, that's what he said to her once).

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

The dark ponytail flutters in the air as the tall man flinches. He turns away from the railing on which he had been leaning and fixes her with a look that is too surprised to be a glare.

Safu takes his silence for acceptance, and continues anyway. "Look, Nezumi,"she starts, her voice slightly strangled. Apologies aren't her kind of thing. "Yesterday, when I hit you - I shouldn't have. You really piss me off, but that time I was more angry at... at Shion, than at you. So I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

The words 'I'm sorry' don't pass her lips, but the message is understood.

She is about to say something else, but then -

"Shut up."

Safu blinks.

"I don't care." Nezumi's words are harsh, but there is no bite behind them. Safu remains quiet, still a little stunned at his reaction. After a moment, he continues. "Whether you're sorry or not makes no difference to me. You punched me. So what? It's not as if it was the first time someone's done it. And I've dealt a number of my own."

"But-"

"Look, don't apologise," he snaps, turning to face her fully, one hand still on the metal railing. "I probably deserved it anyway." With this, he pushes off the railing and glides past her.

When he's about twenty feet away, almost at the door, he pauses, and without glancing back, he calls, "And don't worry. Your precious reputation won't be marred. I won't tell anyone."

"Why?" she manages to demand through a haze of confusion.

At this, Nezumi does glance behind him, and though his expression is carefully neutral, Safu is sure there is some hidden emotion he's supressing. His stance is stiff, his fists are clenched and his jaw is set - but he radiates no anger in his piercing grey stare.

Before Safu can ask him about this, he turns away and vanishes through the access door, almost as if he was just an image on the wind.

* * *

_Dammit_ , he hisses mentally. Nezumi's footsteps echo eerily around the barren corridor, and he idly wonders where everyone is.

_That old man's a lecherous bastard, but at least he gives good advice. 'Don't get involved with people', he always says. 'Look out for number one'. 'Getting close to people only makes things difficult and complicated'. Dammit._

His long strides bring him to his classroom before he's even realised where he's going, and he freezes awkwardly in the doorway as he realises he has no idea why he's here. "Dammit," he mutters again, this time aloud. After a brief glance around the empty room, he catches sight of the large clock hanging tiredly above the whiteboard. It's almost the end of lunchbreak.

He backs out of the small room and heads down the stairs. The rumble of lunchtime chatter is audible now, though he smoothly evades it down a narrow corridor - a bit of a long way round, but less troublesome than cutting straight through the canteen and risking a run-in with his classmates (who just can't seem to get enough of talking to him, despite his unsavoury attitude). He reaches his next class five minutes before the bell rings and settles onto a stool beside an old electric keyboard in the corner.

Music is one of Nezumi's electives, and though he's been at the school for a good few weeks, this will be his first lesson. Up until now, the headmistress has been pulling him out of his Music lessons to force him to attend counselling sessions, because she's afraid he might become a 'problem student'. Nezumi isn't a 'problem student'. He just wants to be left to mind his own business, but the people around him always seem to get the impression - how on Earth they manage, Nezumi has no idea - that he's a friendly, sociable guy who's just a little shy.

During his sessions he has made sure to say all the right things and respond in all the correct ways to maximise the probability of escaping the headmistress's watchful eyes. Thankfully, the system is easy to fool, thus he finds himself in his Music class, with absolutely no idea what anyone is doing.

An image of Safu's livid expression flickers behind his eyelids, unbidden. It is swiftly followed by Shion - first smiling happily and naively, and then glaring at him with murderous intent, eyes blood-red like a demon.

That was how his classmates had described him after his argument with Safu. 'Demonic'.

The image shakes Nezumi to his core.

Before he can dwell any more on the matter, however, the first students begin to arrive, followed swiftly by a bald man wearing a large red earring, who Nezumi assumes is the teacher.

The man is rather tall and doesn't bother to quieten the class as they enter the room, instead sitting behind his desk in the far corner. He keeps glancing around the room and then back to his laptop screen, and Nezumi realises he must be doing rollcall.

It seems very odd that he doesn't seem to be doing much of anything, letting the students mill around and more or less do what they like, and the dark-haired man is a hair's breadth away from saying something about it, when a thought suddenly strikes him.

It's an independent class. Everyone knows what they're doing and is getting on with it themselves.

A brief scan of the classroom's occupants confirms this, and Nezumi gets the urge to slam his head into a wall.

But he merely purses his lips irritably as he strides up to the quirky teacher.

"Excuse me?" he asks, his tone polite but cold.

The man glances up, and Nezumi is taken aback by how old he looks up close; wrinkles litter his face and his jowels are barely hidden by his shirt collar. "Yes, uh...?" he trails off as if attempting to remember Nezumi's name, but a spark of realisation lights up his blue eyes. "You must be the transfer student!"

Nezumi isn't sure whether or not to be insulted by this man's obvious astonishment. "Yes, and it appears that everyone knows what to do except me."

The old man cracks a youthful grin and lets out a chuckle. "Yes well, that's what happens when you transfer in halfway through the year." He doesn't seem to mean this in a bad way, and quickly continues. "My name is Mr. Knox, but as one of my students, you have the privilege to call me Rob."

"My name is Nezumi. It's a pleasure to meet you sir."

Rob looks only a little put-out at the 'sir'. "The pleasure is mine, Nezumi. Now..." He cranes his neck around Nezumi to take a good look at the class, before gesturing in one student's direction. "I hear you are quite gifted, Nezumi. I have one student who seems to be struggling a little - his performances are magical, but his compositions... Let's just say they leave a lot to be desired." He flashes a smile. "Perhaps you could offer him some friendly guidance?"

Nezumi raises an eyebrow but saunters off in the direction of the vague gesture anyway. He isn't really interested in helping other people; if they can't compose a piece of music, why the hell are they even in this class?

Still, it gives him something to do.

The student indicated is sitting hunched over a keyboard (it appears the school could only be bothered to buy one actual piano, and so most students have to make do with electric keyboards while composing). His deep violet shirt abruptly reminds Nezumi of Shion's eyes, though only the sleeves are visible, the rest hidden under a baggy black sleeveless sweater. There's an oversized woolly hat on his head, concealing short hair.

Nezumi gazes impassively at the student's back for a few moments longer as he ponders how to initiate contact. He isn't the friendly type and greetings like 'Hey there!' really aren't his style. He supposes he can tap the boy on the shoulder, but from the looks of things he's so engrossed in his work he might flinch away, or even scream. One thing Nezumi wants less than having to deal with an incapable Music student is having to deal with a  _flustered_  incapable music student.

Eventually, he slides into an adjacent seat, crossing his legs gracefully and leaning into his palm, elbow on the desk, in order to see what the student is writing.

Instead of messy staves, though, Nezumi's attention is captured by the puff of thick white hair protruding from the front of the hat. Grey eyes widen, zoning in on the man's face, and dark glasses are just about visible through the haze of messy snowy hair.

"Shion?"

As expected, Shion lets out an unmanly yelp, his head bolting up to meet Nezumi's slack-jawed stare, and squeaks again as his knee makes sharp contact with the desk. He swears under his breath, dropping his pencil to rub at the injured kneecap.

Nezumi resists - with great difficulty - the urge to glare and/or roll his eyes at the stupidity of the person in front of him, and instead asks intelligently, "Why are you here?"

"Oh  _gee_ , I don't know, maybe because I  _take Music?_ " Shion grinds out through gritted teeth, his attention still mostly focused on his smarting knee as he attempts to massage some feeling back into it.

Nezumi raises an eyebrow, still inwardly shocked at the revelation. "What's a science nerd like you doing in a Music class?"

Shion shoots him an indecipherable look. He ignores the question. "Why are  _you_  here? Sitting next to me, I mean?"

"The teacher sent me. He said your compositions 'leave a lot to be desired'," Nezumi drawls icily.

The glare he receives from the usually cheerful man is equally as cold. "Well then wouldn't it be best if you didn't concern yourself with such  _commoners_? I'm sure you'd be much better off writing your own music rather than trying to help someone who so  _obviously_  shouldn't be here."

Nezumi's eyes are wide. He wasn't expecting that reaction.  _What the fuck is_ wrong _with this guy? Is he bipolar?_ "I'm sorry to intrude on your personal space. It appears failing requires a lot more room that I thought." His upper lip curls slightly in irritation. "Not that  _I_  would know anything about that." He stands up suddenly, the squeal of chair leg against wooden floor going mostly unnoticed in the noisy room. Nezumi shoots the shorter man one last cool glare before composing himself enough to leave the room with enough dignity not to slam the door behind him.

"What the hell?" he mutters angrily to himself as soon as he turns into the empty corridor.  _What is_ up  _with him? One moment he's all happy and smiley and the next he looks as if he's about to kill me! What did_  I  _do?_

_If this is about his argument with that Safu girl..._ Nezumi's brow furrows.  _Maybe he's just in a bad mood because of it. She_ is  _his best friend._ He snorts.  _I didn't think Shion was_ capable _of bad moods._

His pace slows somewhat as the fiery anger within him mellows out.  _Still, it doesn't matter what mood he was in. People just don't do that. It's rude, and completely unjustified, and..._ Nezumi's brain makes a strange gurgling sound as the irritation returns, and he exits the building, temporarily squinting against the harsh afternoon sunlight. He lifts a black-clad arm to his face, shielding his eyes. He stops just outside the gate, standing still in the middle of the road (which is thankfully empty).

_Why do_ I  _care, anyway? It's of no consequence to me who he riles up in his free time._ He pauses.  _Except when she takes her anger out on me, that is_. He bites back a sigh, and tilts his head back, staring into the bright cerulean sky.  _I don't care how Shion treats me. I don't give two shits about him_.

_I don't._


	6. Chapter 6

Shion lets out a breathy sigh, lilac eyes dull and half-lidded as he gazes absently out of the window. Today, it feels like an effort to even move, let alone take coherent, legible notes. He isn't exactly well-known for his handwriting in the first place.

Every time Nezumi and he make eye contact - and even when they don't - Shion gets an intensely uncomfortable feeling in his gut that makes him feel almost as if he's skydiving on a bloated stomach. It's irritating and inconvenient to deal with, and ends up making most of their conversations very awkward; although that might partly be due to Nezumi's recent strange behaviour. One moment Shion thinks they're nearly friends, and the next Nezumi's giving him the cold shoulder and refusing to utter more than the bare minimum of words to him.

The unpredictability doesn't exactly help calm Shion's nerves.

 _It's just becoming so difficult to talk to him!_ he thinks with exaperation.  _Maybe I'll talk to Safu about it. She's a practical person; she might know what to do_.

* * *

"Tell him."

Shion chokes on his drink. He gapes at her. "What, just go up to him and say it?" he says, his face the picture of shock and disbelief, with just a hint of panic. At her casual nod, he shakes his head forcefully. "No. No, I can't."

Safu relaxes further into her slouch, sprawled across her desk with her chin on her arms. "Why not? Tell Nezumi you feel weird and nervous when you're with him, and things will sort themselves out."

" _How_ , exactly, will humiliating myself sort things out?"

"Well..." The brunette casts a sidelong glance out of the window. "Either he'll tell you he feels the same way, and then you can work through whatever these feelings are together... Or, he'll offer a possible explanation for why you're feeling this way." She pauses, and meets her best friend's worried stare. "Or, you know, he'll tell you you're a freak and never talk to you again."

Shion doesn't flinch when Safu reaches across the small desk to close his mouth, which had been hanging open in horror. In fact, he continues to stare blankly and wide-eyed at her for a good few seconds before he responds. "But if he never talks to me again, then how-"

She cuts him off. "If there's no contact between you, these feelings will gradually decrease in intensity until you've forgotten he even exists."

Shion opens his mouth to reply, then shuts it again with a weak noise of protest. He looks away, taking his time to absorb the view of the small, empty Geography classroom they're currently dining in, and trying his very best to avoid the conversation he really wishes he hadn't started.

After an awkwardly extended silence, Safu finally says, "I'm not surprised, you know."

Shion blinks, his attention once more drawn back to her. "About what?"

"About..." She trails off quietly, before restarting in a quieter tone. "About this." She gestures vaguely to him. "About how you feel."

Shion isn't afraid to admit he's a little stunned at the admittance, because he himself had been  _very_  surprised - among other things, like confused, scared, and oddly defiant - when he'd realised that his feelings towards Nezumi aren't normal. He's still confused, in fact, but judging by the expression on Safu's face, it seems she has a deeper idea of what's going on.

Still, Shion doesn't ask. He isn't sure he wants to know.

* * *

He wanders the halls, unsure of where he's going. To be honest, he isn't quite sure why he isn't in World History right now - Shion isn't a fan of ditching class. But it wasn't as if he was actually absorbing any knowledge in his lessons today anyway. His attention span is currently pathetic at best. He'd realised he probably needed a break when he caught himself writing Nezumi's name in the margin of his Ecology notes.

Still, now that he's finally free from the claustrophobic setting, Shion finds he has little to do. This is his last lesson of the day, so he supposes if he's going to cut class he might as well go home; it's this thought that sets his feet walking faster, but it is a different thought entirely which finds him outside his classroom, waiting anxiously for the class to end.

 _Nezumi's in that classroom,_ he thinks. _He's probably forgetting to take notes again._

Shion slaps himself lightly on the forehead.  _What are you even doing here? Weren't you skipping class five minutes ago? Weren't you going to go home early so you could go grocery shopping with Mama? Now look, you're standing directly outside the class you're ditching - you're a sitting duck, a walking detention magnet._

Shion inhales deeply, letting out the breath slowly and evenly.  _You're here because you think that talking to Nezumi about some of your issues with him will help clear the air._

_Read: Barging into his private life because you're curious._

Shion sighs and settles himself a little further down the corridor to wait for class to end. Here, the teacher won't see him, but he has a good enough view of the door to keep an eye out for Nezumi.

Twenty agonising minutes later, the first students begin to trickle down the corridor. Their density quickly increases to the point where Shion considers calling crowd control, and eventually his own classroom door swings open noisily, the loud slam as it hits the wall drowned out by the students.

Nezumi is the last to leave the classroom, and by this point the home-time rush has died back down into just the meagre few who were let out of class late.

"Nezumi." Shion sidesteps into the middle of the corridor, blocking Nezumi's path and stopping him in his tracks.

Nezumi eyes him with an unreadable expression. "What?" he says curtly.

_Why did you lie about going to prison?_

Shion wants to say the words, but they won't leave his mouth. He stands just inches away from the taller man, staring into his stormy eyes with faltering determination for thirty seconds before he gives up and turns away, making to leave.

... At least, Shion's brain is pretty sure that's what he told his body to do. But for some reason, he finds himself pinned roughly to the lockers, the padlock digging into his back barely registered as his mind is too busy screaming  _NezumiNezumiNezumi_ because he is pushing Shion up against the cold metal, one hand gripping his wrist, pinning it to the locker and one gripping his collar.

"Either talk to me or don't talk to me, Shion. Make up your  _fucking_  mind," he spits venemously, and Shion shivers. The usually cold slate irises are aflame, burning with anger and unadulterated emotion as they glare directly into Shion's wide violet eyes. His mouth is twisted in a ferocious half-snarl.

For the first time since meeting him, Shion is afraid of Nezumi.

"I am  _sick to death_ of you - one moment you act like I'm your best friend and the next you treat me like a  _piece of shit_  on the  _sole of your shoe!_  How am I supposed to react to that, huh?  _Tell me!_ " he growls, reiterating his words with a painful shove against the lockers. He doesn't let go of Shion's collar, and the cool hand against Shion's wrist becomes painfully tight. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do, because I have no fucking clue! You're so  _confusing_!"

The grips on his collar tightens, and Shion panics. He belatedly realises he's holding his schoolbag in his free hand. Summoning all of his strength, he blindly swings the loaded bag at the taller man. As soon as he reliquishes his grip just a little, Shion worms out of the trap and stumbles away, not daring to look back as he sprints down the corridor.

Nezumi's words ring in his ears -  _You're so confusing!_ \- and he shouts back wildly, " _That's my line!_ "

He doesn't hang around to see Nezumi's reaction.

* * *

 _I can't believe I did that._  Shion sighs, wincing slightly at the memory. He isn't particularly strong, but - contrary to popular belief - he isn't a  _total_  wimp. Plus, his schoolbag is always heaviest on Tuesdays.  _What a way to try to be friends, huh? Shout at him and hit him with my bag. Like an old lady._

Shion almost laughs at the last thought. Almost.

But at that very moment, Nezumi decides to make his entrance. The door is pushed open timidly and it seems almost no one notices as the dark-haired man stealthily slinks to his seat.

Except, it's not his seat. No, Nezumi's seat is directly to Shion's right. The chair Nezumi is slouched sullenly in is in the back right corner of the classroom, about five seats away.

Shion stares at him blatantly, pretty sure that Nezumi would be able to tell whether he was staring or not no matter how subtle he was. The taller man is relaxed into his typical slouch - no, that's not right. He's slouching, but he is obviously  _far_  from relaxed. His shoulders are stiff and his jaw is set, eyes half-lidded with bubbling anger as he fumes silently to himself. He appears to be deeply interested in the posters for next week's Music Cup on the noticeboard beside him, but Shion is ninety percent certain the man hasn't even realised what he's glaring daggers at. It's as if his face is deliberately turned away from Shion...

Lavender eyes widen. Even through the dark lenses he can clearly see the smudge of a bruise on Nezumi's jawline where his schoolbag had made contact the day previously. _I didn't realise I hit him that hard._ Shion frowns in guilt and turns away.  _Must've been the adrenaline rush_.

The door opens loudly as Safu strides through it, shrouded in an air of importance. She begins to make a determined beeline for Shion, but backtracks none-too-subtly as she notices her dark-haired classmate's appearance. His usually sleek hair is pulled back into a ragged bun, the odd strand falling haphazardly over his face and shoulders. There are dark circles beneath dull eyes and his lips are set thinly and are quite pale - as is the rest of his face, for that matter. And if that isn't enough to convince his classmates that something's up - Nezumi isn't exactly known for his fashion sense, but the blue jumper has a coffee stain and is oversized in all the wrong places, and what kind of self-respecting student wears  _tracksuit bottoms_  to class?

Shion watches as Safu continues to drink in Nezumi's appalling state with a mixture of interest and horror. However, it appears her main focus is not on his appearance in general, but one specific detail.

"What happened?"

Shion cringes at the question, and cringes even more at the accompanying hand gesture towards the tall student's face.

Nezumi's wearied glare is redirected from the noticeboard to the short woman before him. "None of your business," he spits vehemently, perhaps a little more aggressively than is necessary.

Safu's eyebrows shoot up and she takes on an expression of vague annoyance, but she doesn't goad him further. Instead, she turns and hurries up to her best friend, clearly eager to hear the gossip. "Shion? Do you know about...?" She glances warily in Nezumi's direction, but he is once again attempting to intimidate the wall into non-existence.

Shion lets out a deep sigh and nods, raking a hand through silvery locks. "Yeah, I... I was kinda... the one who gave it to him."

" _What?_ " Safu hisses, though more with shock than anything else. "I thought you were going to tell him how you feel, not beat him up!"

"Okay,  _okay_!" Shion rasps, cursing inwardly when he notices his hand shaking as he cards it through his hair again. "I didn't go up to him with the  _intention_  of swinging my bag at him! He just..." Shion looks helplessly at his desk, as if it would provide him with all the answers.

"He just what? Did he start a fight?" Safu asks, but quickly answers herself with a shake of her head. "No, you're unscathed, and I doubt you have the skill to be able to land one on him in a fistfight anyway."

Shion ignores the unintentional jab. "No, I mean... Okay, I went up to him and I thought that maybe if I got him to answer some of my questions, it would sort out these mixed feelings. But in the end I thought it was just too personal, you know? If he doesn't want to tell me, I shouldn't force him to."

Safu drags up a chair to Shion's desk and slides into it, sitting opposite him. She nods, urging him to continue. "Yeah, and? So you decided  _not_  to tell him after all... But then how-" She waves a hand towards her own face.

"Well, Nezumi, he-" Shion bites his lip. "I'm not sure, but he suddenly just... flipped. He told me that..." He trails off into a pause, ivory brows knitting in deep thought as a small revelation hits him.

_Hang on just a second._

"I was too scared to think about what he was saying at the time, considering I thought I was about to die and all," Shion begins again slowly, not quite sure whether he's overthinking this or whether he might have just begun to figure the dark-haired mystery out. "But actually... It was sort of contradictory. First he was acting like he hated me, and he practically  _told_  me that he did - but then he seemed less angry and just more  _frustrated_. And confused."

"Confused?" Safu interrupts. "Shion, you don't threaten people just because you're  _confused_."

"No, you don't get it. Nezumi said-" Shion suddenly glances over to the man in question, only just realising he's in the room. He hopes desperately that the taller man hasn't heard what they've said, and he lowers his voice. "He said to me, ' _You're so confusing_ '."

Safu blinks. After a moment - during which Shion swears he can  _hear_  the cogs turning in her mind - she says abruptly, "Wait. What did he say just before that?"

"Huh?"

She sighs impatiently. "What did Nezumi say just before he said that you're confusing?"

"He said... something about not knowing what to do. What he's supposed to do." Shion nimbly pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "And also something about how I've been - what was it? - oh yeah, about treating him like a piece of shit," he finishes with an appropriate lump of guilt in his throat.

Safu makes a small humming noise in the back of her throat, and Shion raises an eyebrow, tapping short fingernails restlessly on the desk. "So he doesn't know what to do about your behaviour? Or he doesn't know how to  _react_  to it?"

"Uh-" Shion blinks, and clears his throat. "I don't know. He didn't specify. He was too busy half-choking me."

Safu tips her head to the side as she examines the man in front of her. Shion's discomfort increases tenfold under her scrutiny, and he unconsciously hunches lower in his seat in an attempt to make it appear that the linoleum flooring has gobbled him up as a late breakfast. "Shion," she finally says, somewhat apprehensively. "Are you okay? You seem jumpy, and restless, and your hands are shaking. You're usually so calm."

"Yeah, I'm okay, I just... Nezumi, yesterday, he was..." Shion's voice drops to a whisper, "really scary." At Safu's surprise, he adds, "You didn't see him, Safu. After that, it's not so difficult to imagine him in prison."

Safu purses her lips. "Not to dredge up bad memories, but that wasn't exactly the first time you've been in that sort of situation, Shion."

"I know." Shion turns away, half-covering his face with a slender palm. "But it's been a while since I have, and those bullies were always predictable. I could anticipate what they were going to do and so I usually managed to worm my way out of it before things got too serious. But Nezumi..." Shion sighs, and lilac eyes close. "I had  _no idea_  what was going to happen next.  _That_  was the scary part."

* * *

_I should have guessed._

Nezumi hasn't turned up to World History, so Shion is sitting alone. It's the only class they really have together; they share a Music class, but they usually work in different groups now after their small spat over Shion's composing abilities, and homeroom can hardly be counted as a class. World History is their only time to properly interact.

That's why Shion isn't surprised when he doesn't turn up. Why would Nezumi want to talk to Shion after what happened?

The problem is,  _Shion_  wants to talk to  _Nezumi_.

 _Maybe it's easier for me to let it go because I was the one who hit him. But then, he was also pretty violent, so that doesn't make sense_...

Shion's brow furrows. What had the taller man even been talking about? 'You're so confusing' and 'either talk to me or don't talk to me'... Oh.

 _Oh_.

The albino resists the sudden intense urge to whack himself in the face with his textbook.  _How could I have been such a moron? Here I am, getting all muddled about Nezumi and completely ignoring Nezumi himself. I've been so caught up in being confused that I've been a total jerk recently! No wonder he was angry; I've been so on and off with him recently. First I try to be friends, then I get confused and distance myself, then... Ugh, Shion, you idiot_.

The scene from the previous afternoon replays itself like an old movie in his head, a crackle of white noise in the background as he attempts to analyze the situation and watch the movie simultaneously.

 _'Tell me what I'm supposed to do, because I have no fucking clue! You're so_ confusing _!'_

_'That's my line!'_

Lavender eyes narrow to slits and his vision sharpens.  _I'm not the only one with inconsistent behaviour. Perhaps Nezumi, for the same reason... No, no way. That's ridiculous, he wouldn't... about me..._

Still, Shion can't quite squash the thought - or the unwelcome fluttery feelings in his stomach at the possibility - and it nips at his ears for a long time afterwards.

* * *

 _No, Shion. You're being really stupid about this. God, you're acting like some lovesick schoolgirl in a bad rom-com._ He shakes his head firmly at the thought _. Think about it logically. The likelihood that Nezumi is also having strange feelings like you are is reasonably small. Yes, you are probably the person he interacts with most at school, but that doesn't mean you're_ friends _. It just means he hates you less than everyone else. Which is quite flattering, to be honest, coming from someone so... What's the word? How do I describe him? 'Cool'? 'Awe-inspiring'? 'Amazing'? No, not quite. It's not like he's particularly out of the ordinary. I'm just... drawn to him. He isn't someone who stands out, but he stands out to me. Or something. Sometimes, it feels like he-_ "Aaaugh!"

"Shit-"

Shion's eyes latch onto stormy grey ones, which widen slightly at the eye contact. There's a brief - but horribly awkward - silence as they stare at each other, both a little two stunned to attempt any sort of social intercourse.

"Nezumi..." The word dies on his tongue, and it comes out weedy and quiet. He tries again, this time slightly more confidently. "Nezumi, it's five o'clock."

The younger man seems to debate whether to reply or just leave, but after a moment he says, "I can tell the time, thanks."

Shion breaks the unbearably awkward eye contact, glancing down at Nezumi's shoes. They're tough, heavy biker boots.  _Figures_.

"Why are you still at school?"

"I was studying... in the library," Shion says, and though it's the truth, it still feels sort of lame saying it out loud. "What about you?"

Nezumi shifts his weight to the other foot and looks away. There's an uncomfortable-looking grimace on his face, and Shion guesses he's reluctant to answer.  _Why? It can't be any more embarrassing than voluntary studying_ \- "Poetry club."

Shion blinks, and almost asks Nezumi to repeat that, because it was so quiet - but no, Nezumi most  _definitely_  said 'poetry club'. "Oh. That's, uh... cool." Shion cringes at his own words, and clears his throat. "So, uh-"

"Yeah."

They simultaneously turn away from each other and walk away as quickly as possible, gathering up the remains of their shredded pride as they go.


	7. Chapter 7

Shion shoots an anxious glance at his watch as he speedwalks out of the building. He can barely read the large glowing digits - another unwanted reminder that he is in dire need of an eye test. In fact, Shion is booked in for an eye test at four o'clock this afternoon. He's not worried about it particularly. No, his waning vision is not the current cause of Shion's anxiety.

It's currently three forty-five, and the optician's is a fifteen-minute walk away.

If he doesn't hurry, there's a chance he might miss the four o'clock appointment. Shion can't afford to miss  _another_  one, and he would have to deal with being totally unable to read for at least a month while Karan rescheduled the test.

_Crap, crap, crap... I'm going to be late aga-_

"Hey, kid!"

Shion's step falters and his hearts splutters like an old car in his chest. He slowly turns on the spot to see Nezumi striding up to him - shrouded in a rather intimidating aura.

The call of 'kid' finally registers in Shion's mind, and he belatedly notes the flat, aggressive tone it had been shouted down the street with.  _Oh no._

"What the hell is up with you?" Nezumi grinds out once he's in earshot of Shion.

Shion gets a sudden wave of déjà vu at the familiar line, and the reminder of the assault by the lockers makes him desperately want to turn tail and flee. "I'm not sure what you're talking about," he says steadily.

Nezumi purses his lips and deep grey eyes narrow in what Shion guesses is intense thought. The expression isn't quite as scary as the last time Nezumi had narrowed his eyes at the white-haired man, and Shion is somewhat reassured.

"You've been acting so weirdly lately, is all," the dark-haired man explains with a tone of vaguely irritated condescension. The fierce expression appears to have been hurriedly covered by a mask of casual nonchalance.

He may be a Drama major, but to Shion he just looks like he's trying too hard to  _not_  care.

Despite the cool act, Nezumi seems quite impatient to express what's on his mind. "First you're so clingy and annoying and you never stop smiling, but then you just start ignoring me for no reason, and when I confront you about it, you hit me. And then you act like nothing happened, and everything is really awkward!" Nezumi continues with an exasperated flourish of his hands. "Look, I don't give a flying fuck about what you think of me or how you behave, but can you at least try to be  _consistent_?"

Shion's mouth opens automatically to defend himself, but after a few seconds he realises he has no idea what to say. He closes his mouth again. This conversation feels a lot like their previous encounter, except Nezumi is clearly far calmer and Shion sure as hell feels calmer while not being pinned to the lockers. He realises that this - a logical, calm, private conversation - is the perfect opportunity to address his hesitancy.

"I... It's..." Shion clears his throat uncomfortably and tries again to formulate a coherent response. "You've been behaving strangely too, you know." _Damn, didn't mean to say that. What happened to 'I'm sorry' and 'Why were you in prison you liar'? Okay, maybe that last one wasn't the best plan, but at least-_

"I was acting strangely because  _you_  were," Nezumi says finally, though even  _he_ sounds unsure about his words. Shion remains skeptical.

Shion sighs with mild frustration at the whole situation and cards a ghostly pale hand through fluffy white hair. He looks around awkwardly, suddenly feeling too embarrassed to look Nezumi in the eye. "I'm just not really sure how to react to you, okay? I mean, we've known each other for a couple of months now, and yeah I guess we talked quite a bit, but it was always about mundane stuff and recently I just started realising that I don't really know anything about you other than the fact that you're allergic to sushi, you ride a motorbike without a helmet - which is  _really dangerous_ and  _completely illegal_ , by the way - and that you were kicked out of your old school before moving here! And it turns out I don't even know  _that_!" Shion finishes with a breathless huff.

At the last sentence, something changes in Nezumi's eyes. There's a small glint, a flash of understanding and possibly surprise - but his next line shocks all coherent thought out of Shion's brain.

"What do you want to know?"

Shion's breath freezes in his throat, and his eyes are so wide they're hurting. He stares at the guarded sincerity glittering in stormy irises for another moment before saying quickly and almost desperately, as if the words had been brewing under his tongue for far too long, "Why did you lie about going to prison?"

Nezumi appears to have been expecting this question. He breaks the sizzling eye contact, glancing to the side. He sighs and runs a slender hand through messy long hair. Today it seems he couldn't even be bothered to pull it back into a bun, and it lies a few inches past his shoulders and falls into grey eyes underlined by sleep deprivation. He idly runs his fingers through the sleek black locks as he answers in a tone far too timid for the Nezumi Shion is used to.

"Letting word get around that I was in prison... It could lead to unfavourable consequences. Convicts are not exactly treated nicely in our society. I don't particularly care about reputation or people's opinions of me, but I didn't want to deal with the attitudes other students might have towards me. Things could turn violent." He pauses, before continuing in a lower tone, "Although it seems things managed to turn violent anyway."

Shion coughs, flashes of Safu and himself briefly appearing behind his tinted lenses.

"And I would rather not have the teachers biased against me. That could affect my grades, and I really would like to finish high school." Eyes like thunderclouds drift to meet lavender. "And besides, I didn't do anything. I don't deserve the consequences of prison."

"You didn't?" Shion blurts before he can think better of it.

Nezumi only looks mildly offended at the clear surprise. "False charges. I was innocent. The chief of police in the area had a personal vendetta against my father - who really  _was_  a criminal - and was angry that he couldn't catch him and put him in prison before he died. Or something." Nezumi shrugs. "I'm not sure about the details. He just took out his anger on me when he caught me hanging out with the local gang of troublemakers."

Shion considers the taller man's explanation.  _It_ does _make sense, not wanting the unnecessary attention... And the story behind it_ does _seem plausible..._ Shion suddenly blinks in surprise. He asks dubiously, "Wait, so you were in a gang?"  _Explains why he always smells of cigarette smoke._

Nezumi sneers in disgust. "No. Once, I was out for a late-night walk and happened to run into them. They tried to beat me up but it ended up backfiring on them-" Shion's jaw drops, and Nezumi rolls his eyes. "They weren't very good fighters and they were unarmed - and about thirteen."

At this Shion isn't sure whether to feel comforted that Nezumi was safe or shocked that Nezumi would beat up a bunch of kids. The man in question seems to ignore Shion's reaction.

"Anyway, after that they kept trying to get me to join their gang, but I always turned them down. The chief happened to find us during one of these encounters."

"Oh." An ivory eyebrow rises. "But... Then why do you always smell of cigarettes?"

Now Nezumi seems genuinely surprised. "I do?" He blinks. "Oh, I guess it's because of my old man. He's always smoking something or other, and he never opens the windows. It stinks up the whole place... including my clothes, apparently."

"Your old man..." Shion says, still very confused. "I thought you just said your father was..." He trails off.

"Dead?" Nezumi supplies bluntly. Shion flinches, but nods. "He is, and so is my mother. They died when I was really young, though, so there isn't really a massive sob story behind it. When I was four my old man adopted me, and then shortly after that he adopted my sister."

"Yeah, you mentioned you had a sister. Are they nice? Your family, I mean?"

Nezumi shrugs again. "We live pretty nicely because of his underground work, and we can all co-exist without killing each other, so I suppose I could've done worse."

Shion pales at 'underground work', but decides he really doesn't want to know what that entails.

The taller man suddenly huffs out an indecipherable noise and crosses his arms. "Why am I telling you all this anyway? It's stupid to go around blabbering about your personal life to strangers."

"Well yeah, it is. But I'm not a stranger, so it's okay." Shion offers him a hopeful grin. "And it's sort of my fault for asking."

"Damn right it is," Nezumi mutters, back to his normal snarky self now that he has the personal subject matter out of the way. Still, Shion can't help but notice that he looks remarkably more at ease now than he has done in weeks.

"And uh, I'm sorry for hitting you," Shion says awkwardly, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. "I was just, uh, panicking, and-"

Nezumi lets out a musical laugh. " _You're_  apologising to  _me_? You really are an idiot."

Shion shows a small smile at the indirect apology, but it smoothly morphs into a half-smirk as he remembers a snippet of their earlier conversation. "And really? Poetry club?"

Nezumi shoots him a glare. "What's wrong with liking poetry?" he says defensively. "At least I don't spend all my free time studying."

Shion huffs indignantly and a blush spreads across his pale face, but it quickly vanishes as what little colour he had in his cheeks drains away.

" _Shit!_ "

Nezumi looks a little taken aback by the sudden exclamation. "What?" he asks, but Shion is already zipping past him and sprinting down the street.

"I'm late for an appointment!" echoes down the narrow street in Shion's wake.

Despite his sudden horror and alarm about his eye test - which was scheduled for fifteen minutes ago, and Shion is still a ten-minute jog away from the clinic - Shion's heart feels light. He hadn't even realised how heavy his chest had felt, as if his lungs were made of lead. But now, he almost feels like there are helium balloons in his heart, lifting him up, up, up...

Or like there's a dove flapping around in his chest, squawking uncontrollably with elation and making his head rush and heart race with confusing feelings about the mysteriously captivating man he just left behind.

Shion mentally sighs. He's never been very good with similes.

* * *

The appointments had even been running late, and  _still_  Shion managed to miss the eye test. But for some unfathomable reason, he hadn't even been that bothered about it. In fact, he had been noticeably light-hearted throughout the trek home. He'd trudged slowly home through the drizzle and the gentle tinkle of the bell above the bakery door as he'd pushed it open had brought a happy smile to his face and he'd inhaled the floury smell of home.

Upon seeing his rain-matted hair and clothes, soaked to the bone, Karan had shrieked rather impressively and all but shoved Shion in the shower.

Now, half an hour later, Shion is lazing on the small sofa in the back room in his boxers with a large burgundy towel wrapped around him, smothering him from neck to knee.

"And then what happened?" Karan asks as she enters the room, carrying two plates of snack food. Shion wonders if she's planning to eat both of them herself, as they're both filled with her favourite biscuits and chocolates.

But she hands one plastic camping plate to him, and a shower-pink hand protrudes from the thick towel to accept it. "Well, I told him I wasn't sure how to act around him because I didn't really know anything about him - and then he asked me what I wanted to know." He slowly brings a chocolate digestive to his lips and nibbles at it. "I was really surprised at that, actually. He always seems so..." Shion's brow knits as he searches for the right word. "Secretive. Like he never lets his guard down. I could have asked him anything at that point; he left himself so open. It just seemed so out of character for him."

Karan hums through a slice of shortbread. "Does he have many friends?"

"Huh? No, I don't think so. I mean, lots of people try to talk to him, but he always just ignores them or shoots them down."

"But he doesn't do that to you?"

Shion lets out a small chuckle. "Well actually, yeah he does. But only sometimes. I asked him about it and he said it was because I'd been acting really strangely, but he didn't sound very convincing."

"It sounds to me like he's just a bit socially inept."

Shion blinks at her wide-eyed. "Mama! He's not-" He cuts himself off indignantly. " _I'm_  'a bit socially inept'. I stammer and can't carry on conversations very well. But Nezumi is so fluent and eloquent, and he never seems uncomfortable talking to people, just that he'd rather not be talking to them."

"I'm not convinced. You mentioned he's been acting strangely too. Maybe he's just not sure how to act around you." She raises her eyebrows in that motherly way that says  _I know what I'm talking about_. "Just like you were."

Shion is silent for a few moments.  _There's no possible way._ "I've already considered that," he says quietly. "There's no way he could. It's just too unlikely that he could be... drawn to someone like me. He's Nezumi, and I'm... me," he finishes lamely with a plaintive sigh.

Karan wraps a warm arm around her son's narrow shoulders and hugs him to her. Her soft voice rumbles in Shion's ears as he nuzzles into her shoulder. "Don't be so easily dismissive of it, Shion. You're a kind, intelligent, good-hearted young man." She ruffles his damp hair. "And you're handsome to boot. I don't see why Nezumi wouldn't want to be your friend. What's not to like?"

Shion withdraws slightly from her hold and her warm smile draws a smile of his own from him. "Thanks, Mama."

She squeezes his shoulder once more before collecting their plates and moving to stand. "Speaking of friends, Safu called earlier. I told her you were busy, but she asked me if it was okay to stop by tomorrow, since it's Saturday."

"Stop by?" Shion echoes with bemusement.

Karan laughs. "Yes. She said it was very important because she's a little unsure on some of the topics in the Math test on Monday and she wants to study with you." The brunette woman's voice drifts through the doorway from the kitchen. "Quite a direct girl, isn't she?" Shion can hear the fond smile in her tone.

He sighs good-naturedly. "Yeah, she is."

* * *

Shion gazes dreamily out of his bedroom window. The rainclouds have completely passed over, leaving the cerulean sky clear and opening up a pathway for the sun to shine down on the insignificant humans littering the streets of No. 6.

He can hear the pleasant bustle of the bakery below him through the floorboards, and the warm May breeze drifting in through the open window is calming. The navy curtains flutter lazily, as does Shion's hair as he slumps further back into the nest of blankets and cushions he's built up around him on the mattress.

Surrounding him are hoards of blank manuscript paper, half-burying his laptop, a Word document open containing his unfinished Ecology homework. He'd been attempting to finish it, but his fingers were beginning to cramp from typing.

So then he pulled out his maniscript paper to try to compose something decent for the recording he needs to make for Music class, but quickly realised that he could barely read the staves, let alone write on them.

This brings him to his current lethargic state, sprawled lazily across his bed-turned-sofa, unwilling and unable to do any work until his best friend arrives.

The bell above the shop door jingles distantly and Shion hears Karan greet Safu cheerfully. A minute later, Shion's bedroom door opens, and Safu enters, holding a bag of something that smells  _wonderful_.

"Hey, Shion," she says and offers the brown paper bag to him. Upon closer inspection, it contains four freshly-baked raisin rolls. Shion pulls one out.

"Safu, I need your help."

"Great, so do I. What do you need?"  _Ah, Safu. Always cutting right to the chase._ She raises an eyebrow at his blanket nest, and joins him on the bed. He's lying right across the entire mattress, so she settles for laying her legs over his with her back to the wall.

"My eyes."

She stares blankly at him for a moment before asking, "Excuse me?"

Shion sighs. "I missed my eye test," he whines. "I could barely even read small print  _before_ without straining my eyes, but now I can't see it at all, no matter how hard I try. And Mama couldn't schedule another appointment for  _two weeks_. I can't even read my textbook anymore, Safu!"

She raises her eyebrows in sympathy. "You need me to read something for you?"

"Not exactly. I wrote my Ecology paper on the laptop - because I'm pretty sure my handwriting is illegible now, and I can bump up the font size so I can read what I'm writing, but then I got bored of it and decided to start that composition. You know, for the recording on Thursday. But then I realised I can't see the staves. And I know it's a huge favour, but I was hoping you could write down the music for me as I compose, at least until I can get Sibelius installed on my laptop so I can zoom in." Shion glances at her uncertainly. It would be a total waste of Safu's time, but he needs to start the composition as soon as possible because it always seems to take forever for him to write a piece of music.

Safu sighs. "You're lucky I'm already ahead in all my classes and can afford to skip studying for a few days." Her lips turn up in a small smile and she pokes Shion in the calf. "And anyway, it means I get to spend more time here, where I can eat your mother's wonderful cooking."

Shion snickers at that. "Thanks, Safu. You're my saviour." He glances up at her, and she's rummaging through his scattered papers. "You need help with the Math revision, right?"

She nods as she draws out the least creased pieces of manuscript paper from the scruffy heap. "Matrices, specifically. They just don't make  _sense_. I can't understand the patterns for multiplication." Her face scrunches up. "Why do we need to learn about them anyway? They're pointless, useless and confusing."

"I agree, but they're in the syllabus. Here," Shion says, drawing himself up into a sitting position and grabbing a piece from the top of the paper pile. He begins to sketch out two (quite oversized) basic two-by-two matrices. "You get this part, right?" he asks, and quickly multiplies them.

Safu nods. "It gets confusing when they're two different types."

"Okay." Shion turns the paper over and draws out a two-by-three matrix beside a three-by-one matrix. "See, here you multiply this row," he gestures to it appropriately, "by this column. All the answers are added to create..."

* * *

"... And  _then_  she yelled at him, 'Stop hitting on me! I'm a lesbian!'" Shion finishes with a giddy laugh. "That poor man, I feel sorry for him. How was he to know?"

Safu raises an eyebrow in dry amusement. "You would've thought the fact that she was in a barber's would give it away."

Shion's grin grows wider and he lets out another chuckle. "Yeah, but some people are just really dumb. And not all women with short hair are lesbians, anyway." He flops back down on the bed and draws his pillow over his stomach. His smile doesn't fade as he gazes, eyes half-lidded, at the white ceiling.

There is a short, sweet silence, and then Safu says, "What's brought on this good mood? You never tell me weird stories about your haircuts."

A pale hand automatically reaches up to finger the fluffy white locks. He answers at length, "I talked to Nezumi."

Safu blinks, and brown eyebrows shoot up. "Without any violence involved?"

Shion laughs. "No violence." He sighs contentedly. "We got a lot of stuff sorted out. It's not awkward anymore. Or aggressive. Actually, it's really nice."

Safu makes a gentle humming noise and observes her best friend thoughtfully. "You do seem happier. Sort of... like you're drunk."

At this, Shion can't help but bark out a laugh of surprise. "Safu, I'm not drunk," he says with amused certainty. "I just feel all  _fluffy_  inside."

Safu snorts in disbelief, smiling at Shion's strange antics. "' _Fluffy_ '? Do you hear yourself?"

"Yeah," Shion replies dreamily. "I may be blind, but I'm not deaf." He pauses, lavender eyes blinking once, twice... "Oh  _crap_."

The short woman tilts her head in confusion. "What?"

"Blind. Eyes. Stupid small print. Compositions." Shion sighs, suddenly feeling quite tired. "I don't even know what to write about. Usually I have a theme or subject in mind when I compose, as a sort of starting point, and to set the correct mood... But I've run out of good ideas. My 'nature' compositions are getting a consistent C+ and it's ruining my GPA." He hugs the baby blue pillow closer to his stomach.

Safu turns her attention to the open window and the pleasant breeze whistling past. "You could write about Nezumi."

Shion launches forward into a sitting position. " _What?_ " he squeaks.

"It was just a suggestion," Safu remedies, palms held up in a mixture of surrender and defense. "That was a pretty extreme reaction."

The corners of Shion's lips curl down in a petulant frown. "It's just... writing music about someone else... that's just  _embarrassing_. It's what people do when they're in love. I'm not in love." At Safu's dubious smirk, the albino flushes crimson. "Don't look at me like that! I'm  _not_ , seriously! We're just friends, and it's weird to write a piece of music about your friend." He turns his head away with an chagrined huff, and wishes he could sink down into his mattress as if it was quicksand and vanish for all eternity. Or, alternately, boot Safu out of his bedroom.

"It's either that or another C+," Safu states bluntly with a nonchalant shrug. "No one has to know that you wrote about him if you don't want them to. There aren't any lyrics. In fact, people won't even be able to tell that it's about a person rather than 'the quiet breeze in the calm sunlight' or whatever crap you usually write about."

Shion decides to ignore her jab. He sighs. Safu has a point, but the problem is that  _Shion_  will know that it's about Nezumi. And that fact alone is enough to humiliate him into the next century. "I guess so, but still..." he protests meekly. Of course Safu is making sense. She  _always_  makes sense.

Safu sighs impatiently. "Don't let embarrassment get in the way of a good grade. You were right; it _is_ ruining your GPA. At this rate, you might lose your scholarship."

Shion blinks. He hadn't thought of that. "Oh," he mumbles weakly.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Safu assures him with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Just tell everyone it's about ducklings swimming in a pool and you're all set."

* * *

"Shit..." Nezumi mutters to himself as he marches purposefully down the corridor. His old man had offered to give him a ride home after school today since he was in town anyway, and Nezumi had  _of course_  chosen today to get distracted in the library. School ended half an hour ago. Not that Nezumi really cares if he keeps the guy waiting a while; it would make up for his incessant taunting over breakfast this morning.

He is just striding past the main hall when he hears it. A quiet, gentle and soothing tumble of notes - played with skill, but hesitant and fumbling as if the player is reluctant or embarrassed to play. It's quite an odd feeling, and the sound makes Nezumi just a little uncomfortable.

The music suddenly crescendos, and one note lands slightly off-beat. Nezumi pauses in his walk, mindful of the fact that he really should be heading towards the car - but the rough music has a strangely mesmerising quality, and he feels compelled to listen just a bit longer.

One chord is harshly dissonant and Nezumi winces. He can't be sure if it was deliberate or not, but if he was writing that music he would most  _definitely_  cut that part out.

He slinks over to the double hall doors, one left conveniently ajar for the tall man to peer through.

Nezumi blinks, eyes wide.

The man hunched over at the grand piano, translucently pale hands gliding smoothly over ivory keys, is Shion.

_This doesn't sound like anything he's written before. It's too raw, too gritty... and far too disorganised_. Nezumi's brow knits in bafflement.  _It's actually pretty good_.

Shion curses under his breath as he hits the wrong note, pausing for half a bar before resuming. The sight of him so concentrated and looking downright  _emotional_  about the whole thing ignites an odd and wholly unwelcome flutter in Nezumi's chest, and he inhales deeply. What the hell? It's just Shion playing the piano. Softly. Tenderly. With small flickers of expression that Nezumi can just about distinguish from across the hall, and Shion exhales quietly, and just there, like that, Shion looks so-

The blare of a car horn stings Nezumi's ears from a distance. It's  _his_  turn to swear under his breath. He turns and legs it down the hallway, thoughts of the captivating performance pushed to the back of his mind... for now.


	8. Chapter 8

His eyes dart rapidly across the text in his hands, but he's not really seeing it. Cheap headphones pump music into his ears, but he's not really hearing it.

No, Nezumi's concentration is currently somewhere else entirely.

The library rustles and whispers around him; he can feel the steady quiet even over the  _well uh-uh baby I ain't got no plan_  droning on loudly in the background. It's distracting him from his reading – and  _nothing_  distracts Nezumi from Hamlet. It's one of the laws of the universe.

But it looks like Shion has once again broken his unspoken rules. What is _up_  with that kid? He can't leave Nezumi alone, can't stop haunting him like a naïve, clingy ghost – even when he's not physically there. He plagues Nezumi's thoughts like a virus, taking over each brain cell one by one until Nezumi is left with just a skull full of Shion.

It's a scary thought.

The piano practice he accidentally overheard yesterday is still at the forefront of his mind.  _C'mon_ , he tells himself,  _it was just some kid playing the_   _piano_  – skilfully, Nezumi must admit, but he was nothing special. He'd only heard a few minutes of it, but even in that short space of time Shion had managed to make many errors. He wasn't even looking at the sheet music in front of him.

… Actually, he hadn't been wearing his glasses, either. Nezumi blinks. Shion  _always_ wears his glasses. He can't see without them. Was that why he was making so many mistakes? He was playing from memory?

A hand touches his shoulder. Nezumi jumps so harshly that he shoots out of the chair, book landing with a heavy  _thump_  on the floor. "Shit!" he exclaims. "What was that for?"

The other student – who Nezumi belatedly notices is in his Algebra class – clears his throat meaningfully at the outburst, indicating the vaguely annoyed glares Nezumi is receiving from around the silent library.

The library.

Where you're not supposed to shout.

Or swear loudly.

"Sorry," the guy (Nezumi can't remember his name) drawls quietly, a blond eyebrow raised, clearly amused. "Didn't mean to startle you."

Nezumi rakes a hand through his hair in chagrin, feigning nonchalance as best he can as he readjusts the headphones tangled around his neck. He wanders back over to his table to salvage the upturned book from the floor. "Why're you even here?" he snaps without making eye contact. "Isn't class on?"

"I could say the same to you," the blond student quips, crossing his arms over his chest. "There's been a room change for Algebra this afternoon. I was told to find you to relay the information."

Nezumi looks up. "A room change? Why?"

The student snorts and shrugs. "Don't ask me. I'm just the messenger." He smirks. "You're awfully jumpy today, Mister Mystery."

Nezumi balks at the nickname. "Don't call me that. And I'm not jumpy."

"Why not? Practically the entire female population calls you that. Didn't you realise? Wow, you're pretty dense for someone who radiates an aura as cool as yours."

At this point, Nezumi isn't sure if the guy is trying to insult, tease or compliment him. Frankly, he doesn't care. "Just fuck off, okay? You relayed the message. Job done. Get lost."

Nezumi can feel the student staring incredulously at him, even when he brushes past irritably. His patience is thin today.

"You really are an asshole," the guy hisses eventually, tone pure malice. He shoots Nezumi a cold glare as he stalks out of the library, leaving the dark-haired man to check out the book in private.

"Thank you," Nezumi murmurs to the librarian, who looks at him with disapproval. Maybe he  _was_  a bit harsh; the guy was only doing him a favour.

No use dwelling on regrets, though. Nezumi has many things of a higher priority to do today. Like stress about his conflicting feelings for a certain white-haired, purple-eyed, irritatingly dense classmate.

* * *

"Um, Ruka," Shion calls timidly to the tall boy at his locker a few feet away. He moves to greet him.

Blonde hair sweeps through the air as said student turns, revealing the most intimidating scowl Shion has ever seen on Ruka's face. "What?" he growls.

"Oh," Shion mumbles, slightly taken aback. "Bad time. Sorry."

Ruka sighs with annoyance, slamming his locker shut. "Don't be so demure. It's annoying when someone asks for your attention and then immediately dismisses it without explaining himself."

Shion is silent for a moment. Now is obviously a  _really_  bad time; not that Ruka is bright and friendly on the best of days. He begins hesitantly, "I was just wondering if you'd seen Nezumi today. He didn't turn up to class. I wanted to talk to him about – about something."

Ruka barks out a clipped laugh. "Man, have I seen him today. Far more than I would've liked. Why would you even want to _talk_  to that jerk?" he huffs, scratching idly at his throat. "He was in the library last I saw. And I really hope it's the last I'll see of that jackass," he snarls under his breath.

"Did…" Shion ventures cautiously, "Did something happen? With you and Nezumi?"

"No," he growls. "I did him a favour and he yelled at me. Rude, ungrateful little…" he trails off, jaw clenched.

Well, Nezumi isn't known for his benevolence, but to Shion this seems a little out of the ordinary.  _Is Nezumi on edge today?_ "I'm sure he didn't mean for you to get this upset."

"I'm not  _upset!_ " Ruka snarls – and then promptly shuts up as he realises just how defensive it sounded. He continues in a calmer tone, "I'm just annoyed. He should learn to be nice. That's all I'm saying."

Shion quirks an eyebrow. "Okay," he says agreeably. "I'll check in the library. Thanks for telling me about his bad mood." He grins widely as he leaves in some small attempt to cheer Ruka up.

So Nezumi isn't feeling too good.  _Why?_  Shion can't help wondering. His eyes widen slightly as a thought occurs to him, and he pushes his glasses up his nose anxiously.  _What if it was my fault somehow? Maybe I did or said something to offend him without realising… He had this reaction last time we argued. But we're not arguing._

_Or are we?_  Shion thinks. He knows he's being a little paranoid, but Nezumi is so difficult to predict – he isn't sure what to think.  _What if we're arguing and I'm the only one who hasn't realised? No, wait, hang on. That's just ridiculous. I'd know if we were arguing, at the very least._

His hand is on the library door, and he slowly pushes it open. There's a chance Nezumi is still here.

But he's not.

A quick search of the library reveals no such man, and the librarian informs him that she instructed him to leave after he began to disturb the other students – Shion assumes that by this she means the 'heated discussion' (if it can be called that) between Nezumi and Ruka.

So he leaves the cozy room feeling just a little disheartened. Perhaps it would be best to give Nezumi some space for now; whether his current mood was due to Shion or not, he would probably not appreciate him pushing into his private life.  _It's decided then_ , he reassures himself firmly with a slight nod. He'll wait for Nezumi to approach him about it first.

* * *

Okay, so maybe Shion's plan isn't going as well as he'd hoped.

"I rarely see you alone these days," Safu comments from the doorway, pausing slightly in a silent request to enter Shion's personal space.

Shion shrugs. He gazes quietly at the young woman approaching him, armed with two hardback textbooks and a lunchbox.

Safu dumps her weapons of choice onto Shion's desk. He moves his own lunchbox out of the way as she pulls up a chair to sit opposite him in the abandoned classroom. She eyes him, calculating.

"What?" he asks, a little unnerved. "Don't look at me like that."

Safu makes a small noise of consideration, then disregards Shion entirely as she opens her Psychology textbook and begins to eat a salad wrap.

He stares. Is she honestly giving him the silent treatment? Oh great, so not only has he unwittingly annoyed Nezumi, but now Safu too.

Shion's sigh warms the air between them as he resigns himself to an unexplained silent lunchtime. He comforts himself with the thought that if he'd  _really_  angered Safu, she wouldn't have come to sit with him at all, and would have spent her lunchtime brooding in the cafeteria.

By the time either of them speaks, Shion is scraping the last few grains of cold rice out of the plastic tub.

"Mr. Knox gave you an A+."

Shion blinks, not at all expecting Safu to instigate conversation. "Excuse me?"

"I bumped into him in the corridor," she explains, although that sentence really doesn't explain anything. She rolls her eyes at Shion's continued expression of confusion and sets down her wrap. "He was very impressed with your most recent composition. He told me to inform you that he gave you top marks for it." There is a twitch of a smirk at her lips.

"Oh," Shion mumbles, stunned. "That's… great."

"You bet it is!" Safu exclaims enthusiastically. "Looks like my advice paid off, hm?"

Shion is confused. Again. "Your advice?"

"To write about Nezumi. I  _told_  you writing about him would make a far better piece of music than writing about leaves and flowers again. Looks like Mr. Knox agreed with me." Here Safu gives into the temptation, and her lips curl into a wide smirk.

Pale cheeks tinge pink. "Oh right," Shion murmurs through a self-conscious chuckle. "Thanks, I guess."

"I heard you practising it, actually," Safu says casually, ignoring Shion's shocked goldfish impression. "It was definitely your best work."

Shion is flattered. He knows Safu doesn't dish out compliments just to be nice. Her blunt honesty is both a blessing and a curse. "I wasn't too sure about the last bar… but if you say so," he laughs. "I trust you. Oh, remind me to thank Mr. Knox later," he adds as an afterthought.

"There's no need to  _thank_  him for giving you a good grade," Safu says, entertained by Shion's reaction. "You deserved it."

* * *

Shion's nose tickles as a puff of flour assaults him. "I'm back," he greets cheerfully.

Karan turns from the kitchen counter, practically  _emanating_ flour. "Oh hi, Shion. I didn't hear you come in." She dusts off her hands roughly on her apron and smiles brightly. "Do you want some coffee? It just finished brewing."

Shion would  _die_  for some coffee right now. "Yes please." He unceremoniously drops his bag beside the fridge, before opening it and pulling out a yoghurt. He rummages in the counter drawer for a spoon. "You don't usually bake at this hour."

"I know, but the bakery was so busy today – you wouldn't  _believe_  how many customers I had! And Ed called in sick this morning too, so there was no one to attend the counter while I baked replacements. After a few hours, I ran out of goods to sell, so I had to close early," Karan chortles and offers Shion a blue steaming mug of milky goodness. "How was your day? Not as hectic as mine, I hope."

Shion accepts the coffee gratefully. "It was okay. Nezumi was in another bad mood, but I don't think it was my fault this time," he jokes. "And I got an A+ in Music."

"You did?" Karan sounds pleasantly astounded, and she pauses in her kneading to cast Shion an impressed glance.

Shion nods with a shy smile. "Safu mentioned that it's the first top grade I've ever had in Music class."

Karan seems to consider Shion for a moment; her head is tilted slightly and her expression is thoughtful. The dough is left to rise and she moves to the sink, washing her hands thoroughly and grabbing a hand towel. "Who is it about?" she asks eventually, her tone thick with a sense of knowing Shion far too well for comfort.

"W-What?" Shion stammers, taken aback by the question that seemingly popped out of nowhere – although he knows his mother would never ask such a random question without reason. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hm." Karan throws the towel vaguely in the direction of the counter before leaning against it, crossing her arms and fixing Shion with her full attention. "So this amazing piece of music wasn't written with anybody in mind? No one at all?"

Shion opens his mouth. Then closes it. That glint in his mother's brown eyes is daunting – in much the same way Safu's earlier knowing smirk was.

_Oh._

"Nezumi," Shion mumbles. "It's about Nezumi."

Karan sighs and rests a hand on Shion's shoulder, dipping her head to see the expression hidden by fluffy white locks. "Your confusing feelings about him?"

Shion nods from behind his hair and looks up to meet Karan's gentle gaze. "Yeah. It's kind of embarrassing," he says with an awkward chuckle. He runs a ghostly pale hand through snowy hair bashfully. "Safu suggested it."

"I see. Safu is a smart girl." Karan seems to hesitate for a moment. "How  _do_ you feel about Nezumi?"

Shion shrugs. "I don't know. I… I care about him, I guess. Like I care about you and Safu. But…" he trails off, punctuating the confusing explanation with a sigh. How  _does_  he feel about Nezumi? How is he supposed to answer a question he doesn't know the answer to? "I don't know," he repeats with a hint of frustration. "It's different, somehow. More intense."

Karan doesn't reply, but Shion can tell from her smile that she has a  _very_  good idea of what Shion himself has yet to figure out.

* * *

Shion is still thinking about it the next day. The conversation with his mother in the kitchen hit home and now he's questioning his every thought. Just that morning he woke up and immediately wondered if Nezumi would be in a better mood today. Is that a normal response to a friend? He can't remember ever thinking so much about Safu – and she's his best friend. Maybe he feels a little guilty about that. Safu has been around for years, since they were kids, and his friendship with her is solid and strong. He's known Nezumi for a matter of months and yet the mysterious man has already overtaken her in Shion's thoughts. It could be less of a friendship between them and more of an  _obsession_  – Shion hasn't noticed Nezumi responding the same way, no matter what Safu and his mother say. Nezumi isn't the type to form friendships… or whatever Shion's feelings are. He's too detached, too private.

Shion is hit with a sudden surge of sadness at the thought. The idea that Nezumi doesn't care for him, doesn't think about him, doesn't mind what happens to him… the feeling that clutches icily at Shion's heart is an unpleasant one.

But Shion's thoughts are cut short as the object of his current worries rounds the corner. Nezumi spots him and changes direction, heading towards the shorter man.

"Hey," Shion greets, trying for a chipper grin and a carefree wave.

Nezumi smiles half-heartedly in return. "Where were you yesterday?" Remnants of the previous day's foul mood are still clinging to him, and his voice is low and impatient.

"Uh... avoiding you," Shion answers frankly. He tries to look interested in the hairline cracks in the plaster as the pair stroll down the corridor, footsteps in sync. He isn't ready to face Nezumi so early in the morning.

"Avoiding me?" Nezumi echoes, incredulity lacing his tone. "Why?"

"Ruka told me you were in an awful mood so I thought I should give you some space," Shion murmurs, stumbling only slightly over his words. He doesn't look up to meet Nezumi's dubious gaze.

There's a tense pause. "Oh," Nezumi says at length. He sighs gruffly, reaching up to redo the ponytail which the wind whipped out of shape. He's silent for a while, but Shion can feel the words Nezumi is itching to say, so he walks quietly and patiently beside him.

"What's wrong?" Nezumi almost-snaps, hauling Shion around to look him in the eye. "You're acting really weirdly. Do I have toothpaste on my cheek or something?"

Shion meets his gaze – and his chest  _burns._ His stomach drops to his toes and his lungs curl up and his jaw hangs slack. The cold grey eyes are molten steel as Nezumi stares, the carefully-concealed worry and concern which Shion had been afraid to find missing are clearly evident, and he is overwhelmed with a warm, tingly rush of relief and unwarranted giddiness.

Something in Shion clicks. As he gapes dumbly at Nezumi, he is bowled over by a simple realisation and wonders how in all hells he didn't notice it before.

_I love him_.

Shion becomes faintly aware that Nezumi is saying something. "Uh –" he blurts. "I'm sorry." He twists out of Nezumi's firm grip on his shoulders and lets his legs carry him far away from the hypnotising stare. He isn't sure whether he's walking or running – as long as he gets himself out of the danger zone.

"Hey!" Nezumi yells after him, the rough voice echoing irregularly down the curved hallway. "What the fuck is  _wrong_  with you? If I have to answer your questions, you have to answer mine!"

Shion halts. He calls over his shoulder as some sort of consolation, "I don't know, but when I figure it out I promise I'll tell you!"

He hears Nezumi swear loudly and scuff the baseboard with a reverberating  _boom_.


	9. Chapter 9

His expectations are low. Shion knows, as he pushes through the glass door which gives way with a gentle  _creak_ , that the braille section of the local library is small. Normally he would simply read the large print editions – which are far easier to find – but at the moment, even with his glasses, all he sees are black smudges. His optician's appointment is only three days away and logically he could wait until then to find this particular volume, but it's Saturday and Shion doesn't want to spend his weekend waiting to be able to see again.

The chances of finding the specific book he's looking for are tiny. Still, he runs his fingers across the spines, teeth nipping at his lower lip in hope. He recites the name in his head as he searches and rejects the books one by one;  _no, no, no, no…_

_Aha._

He pulls the large volume off the shelf with a gleeful grin of victory and double-checks the title:  _Romeo and Juliet_. He's seen Nezumi reading it on more than one occasion, and in a subtle attempt to get to know the secretive man a little better, has decided to try the famous tome himself.

He takes the book to the counter and smiles at the woman standing behind it. She checks the book out for him with a glance that lasts a little too long and he tucks it under his arm as he leaves, inhaling the warm summer breeze outside and relishing in the intense beams and scattered rays of sunlight permeating the filter created by the roadside maples. Shion finds himself wishing idly that they'd thought to plant roadside trees in Lost Town. The inner city really is beautiful.

Shion mourns how short the walk back to the bakery is, and after a quick exchange with Karan he's in his bedroom with the window thrown right open to indulge himself in the summer as it pools on his worn carpet.

He settles down in the parallelogram of light. His thin cotton shirt bunches up around his narrow shoulders as he slouches back against the wall, and he immediately opens the book and begins to read.

"Shion!" Karan calls from downstairs, her voice muffled by the carpet between them. "Dinner!"

He blinks in confusion. Dinner? At this hour? When he left to go to the library it was early afternoon, and he only just got back a few minutes ago –

"Come on, it's gone six o'clock!"

– or a few hours.

He gazes, lavender eyes unfocused and bewildered, at the book in his lap. Had he really been so drawn into the play that he'd lost hours of the day in what seemed like minutes?

"Yeah, okay," he replies belatedly and stands, dropping the book onto his mattress and heading down the rickety stairs, being careful not to trip.

* * *

In the end, Shion stayed up until the early hours of the morning and finished the book that same day. The language was a little difficult to get used to, but it was a wonderful read –  _No wonder Nezumi reads so much Shakespeare,_ he thinks as he meanders down the streets of No. 6 for the second time in as many days.

The weather isn't quite as warm as yesterday, but there is still a heated summer breeze brushing against his bare arms and neck making the stroll very enjoyable.

He reaches the library after fifteen minutes or so and shivers once inside. The air con is on again.

"I'd like to return this," he says politely to the woman behind the counter – judging by her mop of blue hair and short stature he reckons it's the same girl as yesterday. This time she doesn't stare awkwardly at him. "Um," he asks after a moment, "do you have any other Shakespeare?"

"In braille?"

Shion nods.

"I think so," she murmurs. "Hang on, let me check." She scurries away, placing  _Romeo and Juliet_  on the return trolley as she passes it. Her quick movements and quiet behaviour remind Shion of a blue mouse, a thought at which he smiles to himself.

The woman is back in less than a minute hefting two books in her arms, one considerably bigger than the other. "There's  _Hamlet_ , but that's the only one we have individually. This one," she dumps the heavy tome on the counter with a sharp  _thump_ , "is his collected works. It's got all his plays in it, but you probably wouldn't be able to read them all in two weeks, and it's a bit bulky."

_A bit?_  Shion thinks incredulously.  _It's thicker than my Ecology textbook!_  "Thank you," he whispers. "I'll take both." If he's able to carry them home, that is.

She nods and stamps the cards, pushing the substantial books across the counter. "Here. Have a nice day."

"You too." He lifts the tomes into his arms – with some difficulty – and departs.

* * *

He lifts the sandwich to his mouth, biting down and chewing so slowly an outsider might think he's stuck in slow motion. But his pale, bony fingers are skimming over the raised dots at lightning speed, so caught up as he is in the narrative.

"You can read braille?"

Shion nearly drops his sandwich. "Nezumi?"

Said man slides into the adjacent seat on his table. The bustle of the canteen quickly swoops back into Shion's consciousness as he becomes aware of his surroundings – and the man beside him in particular. Shion can feel grey eyes on him. "You're even more jumpy than usual today, kid."

"I was reading," Shion explains as if Nezumi couldn't clearly see the book in front of him.

"In braille," Nezumi adds pointedly. There's a hint of wonder in his tone which Shion almost doesn't catch.

But he  _does_  catch it, and Shion grins shyly at him. "I don't usually. I can read large print, but when I was little I decided to learn braille just in case. It seemed fun. And now I'm really glad I did!" He laughs self-consciously, wondering if Nezumi thinks he's weird. He is, but Nezumi doesn't need to know that. "Since I missed that appointment, I couldn't get a new pair of stronger glasses… It's rescheduled for today but I couldn't wait to finish reading this book. It's amazing."

"Which book?"

" _Hamlet_ ," Shion mumbles, embarrassed. "I noticed you read a lot of Shakespeare, so I thought I'd give it a try. You've converted me."

Nezumi blinks, slightly surprised. He doesn't say anything for a while as he seemingly contemplates the unpredictable man in front of him; but then, "You're crazy, you know that?"

Shion's grin widens.

"So…" Nezumi begins, eyeing up the textured page. "How does it work?"

It's Shion's turn to be taken aback. He didn't expect Nezumi to show much interest; but Nezumi is an eternal mystery, and a part of Shion thinks he'll never figure the man out. "There are different 'levels'," he starts hesitantly, uncertain of how much detail Nezumi actually wants. "This book is printed in Grade 2. Grade 2 is full of contractions and symbols which take up less space since braille is much chunkier than normal text."

A noncommittal sound reverberates in Nezumi's throat. He doesn't lift his eyes from the paper.

Shion tries to assess Nezumi's thoughts, with little success. He isn't sure if he's pushing it too far, but… "Do you… want me to show you?"

Nezumi's head snaps up and he blinks. He doesn't reply and Shion is immediately convinced he'll say no, because who would care about a stupid dotty code? But – "Yeah."

_Oh. Okay._

_Breathe in, out._

Shion tentatively reaches for Nezumi's hand and guides it to the beginning of the next sentence. Nezumi leans closer. Shion swallows the lump in his throat. "You probably know that a pattern of six dots makes different letters," he murmurs quietly.

"Mm."

"Well…" Shion can hear Nezumi's smooth, quiet breaths now, and it is  _very_ off-putting. He struggles to move his attention to the book. "In Grade 2, lots of common words are shortened to just one or two letters. Like here," he moves Nezumi's pale hand, darker than his own, gently to the next cell. "This is the pattern for the letter Y. Here it stands for 'you'." He can hear his own voice trailing off into a raspy murmur, so much louder than their noisy surroundings.

Nezumi re-reads the cell lightly and his eyes drift upwards, away from the paper. "I see it."

"And this," the long finger is directed to the next cell, "is the letter M. When…" Shion pauses and glances up – and immediately wishes he hadn't.

Nezumi is staring at him.

Shion can't find it in himself to break eye contact and after a noticeable delay, he whispers again, "When," less certainly than before. "When it's placed before this symbol," and Nezumi's hand doesn't move to the next cell, "it means 'must'."

Nezumi's reply is nothing but a deep, quiet rumble of sound echoing between them – in the space which is steadily growing smaller. Shion is no longer aware of what he's saying. Something deep in Nezumi's stormy irises whispers that Nezumi isn't, either, and they both understand that words aren't important in this moment. In fact, something else entirely is –

The bells rings. The two jerk apart and Nezumi hastily retracts his hand, and Shion stands hurriedly, hitting the back of his knee against the bench and swearing loudly. Nezumi clears his throat.

Shion closes the book and stumbles over an apology before hightailing it out of the canteen as if his life depends on it. Or at least his sanity; his head is rushing and his heart hammering against his ribs.

What even  _was_  that?

* * *

"Look straight ahead please," the optician repeats, and this time there's a hint of irritability in her tone as she continues to examine his eyes for abnormalities.

"Sorry," Shion mumbles automatically. He's trying to concentrate, he really is – but his mind is whirring as it processes and re-processes the event with Nezumi earlier this afternoon. It had confirmed Shion's feelings for the man, most definitely; he can finally fully empathise with those sappy romantic novels his mother used to read him as bedtime stories. Yes, these overwhelming, overpowering emotions bubbling inside him are definitely the ingredients of love.

No, he understands his own reaction to the situation. That's not the issue here.

The issue is  _Nezumi's_  reaction.

"Straight. Ahead. Please," the thin woman grinds out through gritted teeth and Shion cringes.

"Sorry."

She finishes quickly and with an annoyance only partially concealed by a mask of professionalism. "Your eyesight has deteriorated noticeably," she informs the man sitting on the white plastic chair. "You'll need new glasses."

Shion nods. "Okay. Whichever pair's cheapest, I guess."

The optician reaches for a pair of frameless tinted glasses. Plain and practical. "Try these."

He accepts them, lifts them to his eyes and – oh. He can see. "Yes, these are fine, thank you." He hands over payment with a friendly smile which she half-returns.

"Do you want to make another appointment for next month?"

"Yes, I'm free any time out of school. Oh, but not Sundays, please."

"Okay…" she says to herself as she pulls out a pen and an appointment slip. "The ninth at five-thirty?"

Shion nods.

"I'll see you then," she says firmly and pointedly. She hands the slip to Shion and he chuckles nervously.

"Thank you."

* * *

Shion rolls over with a huff, pulling the blue blanket over his head and drawing his knees up to his chest. He doesn't dare to check the time; he's aware that wisps of pre-dawn light are already seeping through his curtains.

This is ridiculous.

He fumbles around his bedside table for his cellphone and clumsily selects Safu's number. The quiet ring beside his right ear is shrill, and after four rings, his best friend grudgingly picks up with a grouchy, " _What do you want? It's five a.m._ "

Shion sighs, and his eyes slip shut. "I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep – I haven't had a full night's sleep in over a week, Safu. Nothing I do will help. I thought – I thought since you know a lot about biological psychology, maybe you could offer some help."

The line crackles irritably. " _… At five a.m.?_ "

"Yeah," Shion whispers lamely, unable to come up with an excuse. He could have waited until school the next morning, but… "I'm really sorry. I'm getting desperate."

Safu heaves a deep sigh on the other end of the line. " _Do you know_ why _you're staying awake? Are you worrying about something? Not getting enough exercise? Room's too bright?_ "

Shion chews his lip nervously and curls into himself a little more. "Uh, I've been… my mind has been preoccupied. With thoughts. I've been thinking a lot."

" _So, maybe… just stop thinking about it?_ " Safu offers impatiently.

"I've tried," Shion presses, hoping to convey the intensity boiling in his gut and chest and mind. "I can't. He always just appears again."

"… ' _He'?_ " Safu echoes after a tense pause. Then she lets out a tired, annoyed sort of laugh. " _This is about Nezumi, isn't it._ "

"Yeah."

" _I can't help you there, Shion. It sounds to me like your feelings are…_ " she trails off, and Shion decides it's time to come clean.

"Love," he supplies frankly.

Safu is silent. For quite a long time. Such a long time, in fact, that Shion is almost convinced the line has gone dead; but then he hears her say quietly, " _Really?_ " A pause. " _It's love?_ "

"I'm certain of it," he says softly. "I don't sleep, I don't eat, I miss deadlines and my grades are dropping. I'm so happy when I'm with him and when I'm not it feels like there's a hollow void in my chest. I don't care how cheesy or cliché it sounds. It's the truth. I don't know why I didn't notice it until last week. It sort of… snuck up on me."

Safu snickers. " _You were too dense to notice it,_ " she replies with amusement. " _My advice from before still stands. Talk to him about it. Tell him how you feel. Either he'll reciprocate and you can be happily lovesick together, or he'll reject you, and you'll get over him eventually._ "

"I'd rather remain friends than risk getting rejected and making things awkward."

" _Okay,_ " Safu agrees easily. " _I'm not going to force you. If you want to play it safe, that's your choice. But sometimes you've just got to take a leap of faith – trust that he won't make it awkward. He doesn't seem like the type of person to be bothered by something like that._

" _But in the end, it's up to you, Shion. Now goodnight, and go to sleep already. I have to get up in one hour, you know._ "

Shion smiles slightly at the warm voice. "Goodnight. And thanks," he adds sincerely. "Thank you."

" _You're welcome._ " Safu hangs up abruptly and Shion inhales-exhales deeply, rolling onto his back, spreading his limbs freely under the tangle of blankets, and closes his eyes.

* * *

_Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep –_

Shion jerks awake. He thrashes an arm wildly in the direction of his alarm clock and the sharp noise stops.

His bedroom door opens and Karan's face timidly appears. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah," Shion grumbles, his sheets, hair and bedclothes in total disarray and his vision blurry and piercingly bright. He lifts a hand to shield his over-sensitive eyes from the light. "Be down in a minute."

Karan smiles to herself before departing. "Okay. Don't be too long or you'll be late."

"Mm." He grabs his new glasses off the wooden table and fumbles to place them correctly on his face. He's sure they're a little lopsided, but that's not his top priority right now. First he'll shower, then change, then eat breakfast. After that he'll go to school and see Nezumi –

– Nezumi.

Last night's (this morning's?) conversation floods back into Shion's conscious.

_Tell him how you feel._

Perhaps swaddled in dark night, in the dim, dreary grey light, under the suffocating sheets, it had seemed like a terrible idea; but in the cheerful rays of daylight bouncing energetically around his room, it doesn't feel so bad.

He stumbles into the shower and washes slowly, thoughts somewhere else entirely as he ponders the possibility of confessing his love to Nezumi.

Well, when he phrases it bluntly like that, it seems absurd and bizarre… But never mind. He steps out onto the tile and nearly slips. After recovering from his near-death experience, he towels himself dry – sloppily, as when he pulls his shirt on, it clings damply to his lower back – and heads downstairs as he fastens his belt.

"Good morning," he says brightly to his mother as she peers at him over the edge of the newspaper.

She raises an eyebrow. "Good morning," she replies, sounding bemused. "What's up, Shion? You were in an awful mood half an hour ago."

"Yeah, well," he says vaguely as he pours himself a mug of coffee and grabs a warm piece of plain toast.

Karan places the newspaper on the table. "Are you okay?"

"Hm?" Shion turns to her and grins around his toast. He bites, chews and swallows. "I'm fine. I just…" he trails off, visibly slowing down. The toast is put on the table – without a plate – and Shion cradles the coffee in both hands as he sinks into a chair. "I – I think I'm in love."

Karan chokes quietly on her coffee. She lowers it from her lips and clears her throat with a wide smile she's unable to hide. "Congratulations."

Shion looks up and finds no trace of surprise in her delicately lined features. "You knew, didn't you," he says, somewhat mystified by his mother's telepathic powers.

"From the way you talked about him, I had my suspicions, yes. I'm glad you know how you feel about him." She takes another sip of coffee. "Are you going to tell him?"

"I, uh –" Shion stammers, and blinks. He sits up a little straighter. "Yes."

Karan's smile deepens. "Good luck, then. I know it's scary, but you can do it. From the sounds of it, Nezumi is a good man – at the very worst, he'll understand."

Shion nods slowly.  _Yes, that's right. Nezumi is nothing to be afraid of._  He nods again, more certainly. "Thank you."

Karan nods. "You might want to hurry, though, or you'll be late, and you won't be able to tell him."

"Huh?" Lilac eyes dart to the clock hanging above the kitchen counter and – oh  _shit_. He gulps his entire coffee in one go and scampers out of the bakery with a rushed goodbye.

"Hurry up!" he hears Safu yell from down the street, and he almost jumps out of his skin. Safu doesn't usually wait for him when he's running late.

Shion flings himself at his bike and hurtles down the road towards her, skidding dangerously to a stop at her side. "Safu? Why are you still here?"

Her lip curls slightly in annoyance. "I oversleep sometimes too, you know. And it's your fault for calling me in the middle of the night, so let me ride."

Now that Shion thinks about it, she does look a little dishevelled… "Sure. Get on."

Safu hurries to sit sideways on the bike, balanced precariously behind him, and wraps her arms around his waist for security as he launches forward, zipping between cars and pedestrians in every way that cyclists aren't supposed to. But right now, all that matters is arriving before the gates close.

Shion's reckless cycling ensures that they shoot onto the grounds right on time, and he breathes out a pant of relief as they clamber off the machine and he chains it to a post.

"Thanks," Safu says as he joins her in her walk towards the building, his long legs easily matching her confident stride.

"No problem," Shion huffs through a grin, slightly embarrassed to be out of breath. He pauses, clears his throat, and: "I thought about what you said last night."

Safu turns to almost gape at him; first in confusion, then in realisation, then again in confusion. "Wait, really? I can hardly remember that, Shion, I was half asleep when I said it –"

"I know," he interrupts, "but it was good advice. I've decided to tell him. Today. He deserves to know, at least, for better or for worse – my mother said the same thing this morning anyway, so I think I definitely should…"

Safu hums a noncommittal noise. "Okay. Well, good luck. And I hope he's in a better mood today than he has been recently." She offers him a small, genuine smile as she takes a sharp right turn, cutting in front of him and heading down a different hallway to her first class.

He grins nervously. "Thanks," he calls down the corridor she's quickly vanishing down.

The rest of the day passes – in an odd way – both very slowly and very quickly. He can't pay one nanoparticle of attention to any of his lessons, and before he's even registered first period he's sitting in his last class.

World History.

Nezumi, surprisingly, isn't late. He lands gracefully into the seat to Shion's right on the back row, where they always sit, and dumps his weighty bag onto the table with a harsh ricocheting sound which makes Shion flinch. "Hey."

"Hey," Shion replies, swallowing his hesitancy.

Nezumi raises an eyebrow at him and the corner of his mouth threatens to quirk up.

Shion blinks, suddenly uncomfortable. "What?" he asks with trepidation. "What's that expression for?"

"You look all…" Nezumi's face flickers in thought and he waves a hand around vaguely. "Fiery."

It's Shion's turn to raise an eyebrow, and a giddy laugh escapes his lips. "Really?"

Nezumi nods bemusedly. "Did you have extra coffee this morning or something?"

Shion lets out another explosive laugh, at which Nezumi blinks in surprise. "No, nothing like that. It's just… I have something important to do today."

"Uh-huh."

"Uh-huh," Shion echoes with far more enthusiasm than his silver-eyed classmate. He chances a wide grin, which is met by a chuckle and disbelieving shake of the head.

There isn't much small talk after the teacher arrives. Shion is repeatedly distracted by worries about the impending confession and at one point is so wrapped up in his own nervous thoughts that he almost  _shrieks_  when he's called on to answer a question.

That earns a concerned sideways glance from the dark-haired man beside him, though Nezumi doesn't outwardly question his strange behaviour.

The bell rings shrilly and his classmates shoot to their feet in a hurry to leave the building. Shion watches them pack up their textbooks with a distant feeling of apprehension as he slowly stands and shoves his stuff into his bag, no thought spared for his usual organised packing. He mentally rehearses his words as his mouth moves on instinct: "Nezumi, wait a moment."

Nezumi waits, bag slung over one shoulder. He doesn't protest when Shion takes him by the elbow and leads him down the corridor to a secluded spot near the library.

_There won't be any kids going to the library after school on a Friday_ , Shion reasons anxiously as he pulls them both to a stop.

"What's this about?" Nezumi asks quietly as he tries to analyse the man in front of him.

Shion inhales. "I have to tell you something," he starts, boldly making eye contact with scorching grey.

He doesn't continue, and after a moment Nezumi prompts, "Yeah?"

Shion only nods; for some reason he can't explain, all his words have left him, dropping out of his throat and into his shoes, along with his stomach.  _Come on, Shion, get it together –_  he breathes, clears his throat, and thanks god, heaven, Safu for Nezumi's silent patience.

The taller man is slouching against the wall, eyeing him curiously but not hurrying him. It seems like his perceptive nature has informed him of Shion's inner conflict, the battle between calm mind and frayed nerves, and he doesn't say anything about the colour flooding Shion's face and the agitated way he's wringing his hands. Nezumi's expression is carefully neutral, and being unable to gauge his reaction to the situation is making Shion even edgier.

"Okay –" he starts haltingly, and suddenly his mouth goes into overdrive, all his lost words suddenly tumbling freely across his tongue. "Nezumi, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to say this properly since I've never done anything like this before, so I'm just going to say it upfront. Well I don't know when it started but recently I haven't been able to concentrate or think about things without getting distracted and whenever I see you I just panic and I feel so great and also not very great at all, and I talked to Safu and my mother about it and they both gave me some good advice and told me to tell you and I wasn't going to originally because I was scared but I realised that you're probably not someone who would take advantage of it or tell loads of people so I thought, you know, I have nothing to lose by telling you and then it would finally be out in the open at least, and maybe I can learn to move past it –"

"Shion," Nezumi says gently. "Spit it out."

Shion shuts his mouth and draws in a shaky breath, closes his eyes, opens them and – "Nezumi, I –"

They both flinch as a shrill ringing drowns out the rest of Shion's sentence. "What –?" Shion starts, confused and disoriented. "Is that –"

"The fire alarm," Nezumi shouts over the deafening noise. He glances upward at the feeling of wetness on his face. "And the sprinklers."

Shion just about hears him through the pale hands covering his ears. "Is it a drill?"

Nezumi shrugs, looking with alarm around the corridor and out of the window. "How would I know? But it seems a bit stupid to have a fire drill outside of school hours. No one except us and the teachers are here."

Shion checks both ends of the corridor, wiping water off his glasses with the back of his hand. "We should probably leave."

"Come on," Nezumi orders and tugs Shion to the left. "This is the only way out of this wing."

Shion stumbles into a half-run behind him, the manic clanging of the alarm and the sprinkler water blurring his vision making it difficult to judge where Nezumi is leading him. Perhaps in a different circumstance Shion would wonder how Nezumi already had the entire layout of the school memorised after only three months, but at the moment he is in too much panic.

Nezumi skids to a shockingly abrupt halt. Shion tumbles into his back, and suddenly Nezumi is swearing loudly and coarsely and when he glances over his shoulder, Shion sees the fear in his eyes.

Shion is immediately on high alert because Nezumi has  _never_ looked so scared, and when he focuses his attention on the roar and crackle blocking their only exit, he lets out a scream and his voice cracks.

Even through his wet lenses Shion can make out the malicious flames dancing hungrily in front of them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the awkward mistake-correction mid-fic (which had to be done). And the kind of sucky ending. And the shortness.
> 
> On the plus side, early update?

Shion watches the fire lick at the walls with a paralysed, numb sort of fascination; the golden wisps of flame, like silk ribbons, move in an exotic dance towards them and Shion gazes, awestruck. After all, there's no need to worry – he isn't  _really_  here, he isn't looking at  _real_  fire, isn't in  _real_  danger –

He is yanked coldly back into reality by a heavy feeling of something on his shoulders – and he looks up and realises Nezumi has shrugged off his thick leather jacket and is wrapping it around Shion and pushing him towards the window.

"What are you doing?" Shion protests frantically, struggling against Nezumi's forceful grip.

"We're blocked in; we can't get out," he hears Nezumi shout clearly through the orange chaos. "We'll have to jump. My coat is padded – it'll protect you from the fall."

Shion's eyes grow wide at the implication – they're on the second floor. "But what about you?"

Nezumi doesn't reply, instead holding Shion against the windowsill as trembling hands fumble with the closure. Shion's blood runs cold.

"Nezumi!" Shion yells, screams repeatedly for him to  _stop you're fucking insane_  over the deafening clamour of the bell, the fire, the water pelting the glass, but then the window is open and Nezumi's strong arms leave him and he's falling.

* * *

A quiet sound is throbbing in Shion's skull. It beeps in time with his heartbeat and every deep  _b-dmm_  incites a fresh ache in his head. Even through his eyelids the light is painful and he tries to turn away from it – and  _fuck_   _that hurts._  Every muscle, every tendon, every bone in his body  _screeches_  and  _squeals_  in sharp, violent protest and Shion's eyes shoot open.

" _Shit_ ," he rasps against the blinding light and for a moment thinks absurdly that he's seeing the light, that he's finally slipped on his way out of the shower ( _I should really put a rug on those tiles_ ) and been sent to heaven – but no, he can't be, because if he was, he wouldn't be in so much pain, and Nezumi would be beside him.

His chest swells with emotion. "Nezumi."

"Shion?" He recognises his mother's voice instantly, along with the rough sound of dried tears.

He coughs weakly. "Mama."

Glasses are slid onto his face and he opens his eyes again – the cold lights are still too bright but he can see Karan's face clearly. "Oh my god, Shion, you're okay," Karan whispers, tenderly stroking a hand through snowy locks and biting back a new round of tears. "You wouldn't wake up – I thought you weren't going to make it."

"Make it… what?" Shion slurs. Trying to speak and sit up at the same time is clearly too much for his motor functions at the moment.

Karan helps him with the sitting part, holding gently onto his shoulders as if he might break if she touched too firmly, and she tucks his pillows up to support his back. Shion ignores the scream of his limbs because the memories are beginning to flood back as his mind clears. "The fire – Nezumi – fuck, is Nezumi okay? He gave me his coat and he's still in there, Mama, we have to help him –"

"Shh, Shion, it's all right," Karan shushes him quietly and pushes him back against the pillows when he tries to move away. "Nezumi is fine. He managed to escape."

Shion lets out a cracked sob of relief and pulls his mother into a crushing embrace. "Thank god," he whispers into brown hair. "He's alive, he's safe, thank god…" A thought suddenly occurs to him and he pulls back. "How? How did he – the exit was blocked, and the window..."

"He jumped," Karan replies with a soothing half-smile. "You came out fine, you just hit your head – the doctors said they'll need to test you for a concussion – but Nezumi broke his leg. The doctor said he's lucky to have just one broken bone, with a two-storey fall like that."

Shion doesn't hear the rest of his mother's words. He turns away blindly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and stands – or attempts to. His knees threaten to buckle with each step, but he somehow manages to hurtle out of his room and down the corridor, heedless of his mother's calls, demanding of each nurse he passes to know which room Nezumi is in. None answer him, and one tries to call security.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asks politely as he stumbles towards her, though she eyes Shion warily as he leans precariously against the desk.

"Where is Nezumi?" he asks bluntly and without explanation. He'll have time for manners later.

The receptionist furrows her brow as she stares at him with suspicion, then glances down at some papers in front of her. The minute's wait feels like hours – both to Shion's patience and his shaky muscles. "There is a Nezumi in room 21," she says eventually. "Are you a visitor?"

But Shion doesn't reply; he's too busy moving away, down the corridor, eyes flitting between room numbers as he meanders, hasty and disoriented, through the crowd of nurses, doctors, visitors, patients.

_16_ , he reads.  _17\. 18, 19, 20._

_21._

He bursts through the door without preamble. "Nezumi," he barks, out of breath and quite dizzy. "You're so  _stupid_  – why did you give  _me_  the coat? You should've –"

"Shion?" Nezumi murmurs with shock, grey eyes wide and underlined with purple smudges.

Upon seeing the tall, strong man sitting in a hospital gown and a cast, Shion crumbles. He can feel the warm wetness pooling in his eyes and blurring his vision, and when he speaks his voice is breathy and choked.

"It's because… you gave me your coat. It broke my fall. But you… You should have taken the coat, you shouldn't have – your leg… you… I didn't… " Shion rapidly loses the ability to form coherent speech as he is overcome with tears. Nezumi gestures tiredly for him to come forward. He collapses into Nezumi's arms, his thin frame wracked with loud, unadulterated sobs.

Nezumi smoothes down the creases in the back of Shion's hospital gown with a quiet hum of comforting sounds until Shion has worn himself out. The white-haired man's energy levels were already low  _before_  he ran around the hospital wing like a wild animal, and soon he's on his knees beside the bed, breathing raggedly into Nezumi's waist with the younger man's long arms wrapped around him.

"Sorry," Nezumi mumbles quietly.

Shion shakes his head, his voice muffled against Nezumi's gown. "It's my fault for dragging you there. If we'd just left the building on time, you wouldn't…"

"No," Nezumi says firmly, interrupting the train of speech before it can reach the station. "It's not your fault, Shion. You couldn't have known there would be a fire, and it was my decision to give you the coat. You even protested against it and I ignored you."

Shion pulls away then, to look Nezumi in the eyes – searchingly, desperately. "There's still something, I should've reacted better, I should've…"

Nezumi sighs roughly. He crosses his arms and glares at the wall. "For fuck's sake, Shion, it's not your fault. It's only a fracture, anyway. I'll be fine in a few weeks and it doesn't even hurt. Stop beating yourself up over it."

"You're still hurt, and I'm not! That's…" Shion trails off, pushing himself up into an unsteady stand. He scrubs a hand across his cheek with a sniff. "I can't help it."

"I know," Nezumi says with a sense of irritated defeat. Stormy eyes dart to the door. "You should go back. Your Mama is probably worried about you."

Shion follows his gaze. "I did sort of run off without warning…"

Nezumi puffs out a dry laugh and shoos the albino out of his room, ignoring the anxious promises to visit again very soon. Really, Shion is so clingy sometimes.

Though Nezumi can't blame him. If their situations had been reversed… No, he doesn't want to think about that, because their situations  _aren't_ reversed. Making sure Shion didn't end up with a serious injury was the whole reason he gave Shion his stupid coat in the first place.

But  _why?_  Why had he risked his own life to guarantee Shion's safety? It doesn't make sense. He's always done his best to look after himself, put his own needs above the needs of others, look out for number one. That's his motto. No one else matters.

But  _Shion_ …

Nezumi drags a slender hand across his eyes. He has a  _hideous_ headache.  _Probably from thinking too hard,_  he scoffs internally. Maybe he'd been a bit brusque with the kid earlier… Dammit. It's this fucking headache's fault. And his leg is aching too, deep into the marrow; not to mention the numerous bruises and jarred joints. His left ankle is particularly bad – sprained, according to the nurse. Whenever he moves, the pain bites at him, snaps its teeth like an angry dog.

"– Fucking moron landed himself in hospital. Tch, I don't even  _want_ to visit him –"

Nezumi smirks to himself.  _Speaking of angry dogs…_

A short fourteen-year-old pushes the door open so hard it slams against the wall. They stalk into the room, followed by a large man in an expensive suit. "How the hell did you manage to break your leg?" they snap, dropping huffily into a plastic chair beside the bed. "Such a fuss over nothing, like we're somehow obligated to visit you. It's a pain."

"I'm doing fine, thanks for asking," Nezumi drawls, and the portly man guffaws.

"Haven't lost your sense of humour along with your mobility, then," he comments with a grin and leans against the far wall.

The teen ignores him. "I came here to visit you, didn't I?" A slim black eyebrow rises in challenge as tan hands reach back to redo their messy ponytail.

Nezumi sighs plaintively. "I'm so lucky to have such a caring sister as you, Inukashi," he says in the softest voice he can manage.

Inukashi snorts in a very unladylike fashion. "Yeah right, you fake. Besides, I'm not your sister – the correct term is  _sibling_ , thanks very much."

"Oh I'm sorry," Nezumi amends, voice dripping with honey. "My dear  _it._ "

Inukashi's lip curls up into a snarl. "I'll make  _you_  into an it if you're not careful."

"Hey," the older man chides, cutting in. "He's only saying that to wind you up, Inukashi. Don't take the bait. And Eve – shut up."

Inukashi sniffs derisively at their brother. "You of all people should understand, you rat – what with your closet full of dresses and lipsticks."

It's Nezumi's turn to bristle in annoyance. "Mutt," he growls.

"Crossdresser," Inukashi quips defiantly.

"At least I don't actually pretend I'm a girl."

"I don't pretend to be a boy! But at least I look more like one than  _you_  do."

Nezumi opens his mouth to snap something offensive and immature back at them, but the heavy man across the room sighs gruffly before he has the chance to speak. "Do I have to separate you two like little kids? You're seventeen, for fuck's sake, Eve! Grow up."

Nezumi grits his teeth and tries his best not to sulk.

"You can't tell us off, old man. Are you gonna make us call you 'dad' now too, you backstreet swindler?" Inukashi taunts, suddenly switching sides, and opens a bag of Doritos with as much indifference as they can conjure. They offer the bag to Nezumi in a silent offer of a truce, and the older teen accepts graciously.

"Tch," the man mutters to himself. "What a pair of brats, ganging up on me at the drop of a hat. Weren't you threatening to castrate him a minute ago?" He casts Nezumi a sidelong glance. "It's nice to see you're not dead though, Eve. It would've been a shame if the world lost such an amazing talent as you."

"A shame for your bank account," Inukashi mutters through three Doritos. They blink and sit up straighter. "Oi, Rikiga, you're not gonna make me fill in for Nezumi while he's out of action, are you? 'Cause I ain't wearing a dress."

"As if a mongrel like you could draw an audience," Nezumi sighs, quickly grabbing another handful of Doritos before the bag is angrily withdrawn from his reach.

Inukashi fixes Nezumi with an affronted glower. "I could, if I wanted to. But I don't."

"Of course," Nezumi agrees smoothly, pumping as much sarcasm as possible into the words. Inukashi growls.

"The doctor said you fell out of a second-floor window," Rikiga interrupts loudly before the confrontation can turn violent.

"Idiot," Inukashi huffs incredulously and shoves more Doritos into their mouth. "How'd you manage that?"

Nezumi purses his lips. He would rather not talk about it to be honest, but if he refuses to explain, he'll be followed incessantly by his dog of a sibling demanding to be told the truth. He chooses the easy route. "There was a fire," he grinds out, raking a hand through limp charcoal strands. "The exit was blocked. I jumped."

Inukashi blinks in surprise, their attention finally diverted from their Doritos.

Rikiga raises an eyebrow, tugging a crumpled packet of cigarettes out of his back pocket and lighting one without regard for the 'No Smoking' sign glaring angrily in red over his left shoulder. "What about your famous jacket? Didn't you have it specially made for circumstances like this?" he asks with some bafflement.

Nezumi's eyes drift down to observe his fingers tugging idly at the edge of the blanket. He should've known they'd ask. He  _always_ wears his coat. No exceptions. "There was someone else trapped with me," he mutters. "I gave it to him."

"You –" Inukashi splutters, but finds themself unable to finish the outburst. They instead settle for a paralysed gape, deep brown eyes wide and unblinking.

Nezumi shoots them a sharp glare and sets his jaw in a mixture of defiance and discomfort.

Rikiga puffs out a surprised, smoky chuckle. "Well, this is interesting. Someone special enough that Eve would rank them before himself?"

"I'd inhaled a lot of smoke. I wasn't thinking straight."

Rikiga's incoherent murmur around his cigarette holds a tone that sneers,  _Yeah right, Eve, keep telling yourself that._

… Or maybe the painkillers are getting to Nezumi's head.

* * *

Shion doesn't look up. He knows the sort of look the receptionist will give him if he makes eye contact. Their last meeting wasn't exactly… civilised.

"Thank you," Karan says politely to the woman, and the hand on Shion's shoulder squeezes slightly.

Still, no matter how much embarrassment is curling in his stomach, he's glad to be leaving. No concussion was diagnosed by the doctor and Shion was discharged that same day with only a warning to take it easy for the next few days.

His own perfect bill of health does nothing to quell the guilt gnawing his insides to shreds at the thought of Nezumi's broken leg, though.

The automatic doors slide open and Shion is greeted by the caress of the cool evening air; it's much welcomed in comparison to the suffocating, sterile hospital air. He inhales deeply, his lips threatening a smile.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Shion blinks and his head snaps towards the source of the calm voice. Karan is ambling along peacefully beside him, gazing thoughtfully at the trees and not looking like she'd spoken at all. Despite not facing him however, she appears to be aware of his confused gaze, because she expands on her question.

"About why you suddenly ran away at the mention of Nezumi and came back fifteen minutes later shouting and in tears." She  _does_  look at Shion now, and her expression is casual and gentle, with an almost imperceptible tinge of humour to it. "You don't have to."

As always, Shion's heart warms at his mother's perceptive and almost psychic nature. He breathes out thinly. "No, I…" He halts, unable to find the accurate words, and shakes his head in frustration – and then hisses in  _further_  frustration when white locks fall into his vision. He pushes them back irritably. "I'm just angry," he mutters. "At Nezumi, at myself, at… at the whole situation."

Karan spares him a curious glance. He meets it tentatively.

"Well, I… You know that we both jumped out of a window to escape the fire, right?" At Karan's affirmative gesture, he continues. "Nezumi, he… has this coat. I thought it was just a normal leather jacket but it must be made of some kind of special material, because he wrapped me in it before I fell and I came out unscathed. He wasn't wearing it when he jumped. That's why he broke his leg."

Karan's eyebrows rise in surprise, and she blinks up at her son, perplexed at the strange logic she can't quite grasp. "Is that why you're angry? Because Nezumi gave you his coat?"

" _Yes!_ " Shion not-quite-yells, and he's immediately taken aback by the strength of his own conviction. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and glances down at the sidewalk. "Yeah," he repeats, slightly calmer but nevertheless annoyed. "He should have kept it. I can deal with a broken bone or two – I'm not weak and fragile, he doesn't have to protect me. His safety is more important. But still, he just gave me the coat, and now I'm completely fine, but he's in pain and he's going to be on crutches for weeks if not months, and it's my fault. He said it's not my fault, but it is, because if I hadn't dragged him over to the library after school that day then we wouldn't have been trapped in the fire and he wouldn't even be in this mess. It was my own selfishness that broke his leg and put him in hospital." He ends the ramble with an abrupt huff and screws his face up.

Karan sighs. "Shion," she says in a pained tone, and pale, slender hands reach out to grip Shion's shoulders, effectively stopping him in his tracks. The intensity he can hear in his mother's voice only serves to make Shion feel worse. "Shion, look at me. Shion."

Lavender eyes hesitantly dart up, afraid of what they'll find reflected in Karan's stare – disappointment, disgust, disapproval.

But in her deep brown stare there is nothing but  _love_.

"Nezumi was right," she murmurs firmly, again squeezing his shoulders, a comforting gesture. "It isn't your fault. I know it's natural to want to blame yourself for what happened – it's part of who you are, Shion, both a blessing and a curse. But these events were out of your control. And unless you took Nezumi's coat against his will, there is no reason to think his injuries are your fault." Her round face takes on that motherly expression which silently says  _you know I'm right_ , and Shion can't find it in himself to protest, no matter how little he believes her kind words. It's not like it would make any difference to her opinion.

Karan is just as stubborn as he is, after all.


	11. Chapter 11

“– And then he’s sitting there _in hospital_ and just completely dismisses me, like my opinion isn’t worth anything and that nothing bad happened to him at all! He even said it _didn’t hurt!_ Of course it hurt! He broke the bone!”

Safu murmurs a vague noise of agreement, not glancing up from her textbook, even when her mattress creaks loudly as Shion rolls angrily around on it.

“Do you know how _frustrating_ this whole situation is? I can’t even visit him because I know I’ll just take it out on Nezumi when it isn’t even his fault – so I’m just – just _stuck_ here, thinking about it all day! I can’t even go to school to distract myself!” Shion shrieks, punctuating the rant with a howl of anger and a fist to Safu’s pillow.

“Just don’t think about it,” Safu offers calmly, chewing absent-mindedly on the tip of her pencil. She narrows her eyes at the paragraph. This particular subtopic has been causing her some trouble lately, so she thought she would spend her unexpected day off brushing up on it. Exasperatedly, she murmurs, “Maybe you should read ahead on the syllabus? If distraction is what you’re looking for.” A smirk threatens to pull at her mouth. “Or maybe you could go into school anyway and help the janitors clean up the mess and debris from the fire. I’m sure they’d appreciate the help.”

Shion whines from behind her. The sound is muffled behind her ivory pillow and Safu sighs, dropping her pencil onto the desk and turning around in her chair. Talk about _distracting_ – how is she supposed to get any work done with this ball of emotions bouncing off her walls?

“Seriously, Shion? I’ve never seen you this worked up before. About anything.” She crosses her arms and settles back into her chair when the childlike man looks up at her from the bed.

Shion is pouting. “I’m sorry,” he grumbles reluctantly. “It’s just bugging me so much. I don’t understand _why_.”

Safu raises an eyebrow and tries – successfully, more or less – to hide her growing amusement. “You don’t understand why Nezumi protected you?”

Shion nods.

She can’t help it – she bursts into sharp laughter.

“What?” Shion squeaks, indignant and confused. “Why are you laughing? You’re not supposed to be laughing, Safu! I’m having an emotional dilemma!”

Safu shakes her head in a vague apology, her vocal chords currently occupied by her uncharacteristic giggles. The usually serious woman tries in vain to smother the sounds in her cardigan sleeve. Shion’s cutely irritated expression doesn’t help.

“I’m serious!” he exclaims. Safu covers her dying laughter with a few coughs.

“I know,” she says, trying for a sympathetic look, and Shion deflates like a sad balloon. He sighs morosely into her pillow. A pang of genuine sympathy rings clear in her chest at the sight – something like watching a cold puppy shiver in the winter rain – and, against her better judgement, a devilish sneak of an idea creeps into her mind, prompting her to blurt, “I have an idea.”

_A stupid one_ , she doesn’t say.

Lavender eyes alight and his head snaps up. “Really?” Shion practically _pleads_ , and Safu can’t suppress the wry smile at her best friend’s expense.

“It’s pretty dumb. But then again, so are you and Nezumi with your feelings. It’ll fit.”

Shion only looks a _little_ insulted and suspicious, so she decides to continue. She turns fully around in her chair with eagerness she won’t admit to. “You don’t want to see him in person, right? And texting would be far too impersonal,” she starts, thinking that if she gently lowers her best friend into the idea, he’s less likely to reject it flat-out. _Though there’s always the possibility._

Shion’s eyes narrow. He nods slowly, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Well,” Safu continues, “why not send him flowers?”

A squat pause ensues. Shion furrows his brow and snowy locks flutter from his breathy snort of laughter. Eventually, after a good few disbelieving glances, the chuckles die down. He stares for a moment. “Wait,” he whispers, “you’re _serious?_ ”

Safu shrugs casually.

“He’s not – I mean –” Shion stutters into motion. Porcelain hands wave emphatically and he pushes himself into a sitting position. “Flowers, that’s – the kind of thing you send _girls_ , Safu, and Nezumi – isn’t –”

“ _You_ like flowers,” Safu interrupts.

Shion ignores her. “He’s not the flowers type, Safu, he wouldn’t – seriously –”

“Let me _finish_ ,” Safu snaps exasperatedly, shushing him until he quietens. She can tell from the twist of his lips, though, that his raging skepticism is going to be difficult to placate. “I’m not going to suggest ordinary flowers, Shion. Ordinary flowers can be just as impersonal as a text,” she explains, trying to look like she knows what she’s talking about.

Shion’s forehead crinkles as an eyebrow is stretched to its limit.

“I was going to suggest _before you interrupted_ ,” she hisses pointedly, “that maybe you could send asters.”

The other eyebrow joins the first at Shion’s hairline – but this time in surprise. “Wait, what – why?”

Safu blinks. Then rolls her eyes. “ _Asters_ , Shion. ‘Shions’. Remember? That’s your name? ‘Shion’?”

His reaction is delayed as the cogs whirr and creak in his mind. Lilac eyes widen and his jaw hangs slack. “Oh my god –”

Safu’s stretch is almost feline in its self-satisfaction. “Get it now?”

Shion most certainly seems to get it now, because he is fast flushing beet red. “Safu,” he mumbles with uncertainty, “I couldn’t – isn’t that a little self-centred? He needs to focus on himself right now. On getting better. I’d practically be sending him flowers with my name on them.”

Safu’s lip curls back in a predatory grin. “Exactly.”

* * *

Nezumi winces at the spike of pain in his shoulder. He ignores it and continues to pull the elastic over his hair with clumsy, aching fingers. He snaps it to his skull. Long fingers daintily pat their way from his hairline to the band and down the lank ponytail, searching for loops or missed strands. Not that it would matter if it was messy – he looks like shit anyway. No ponytail is going to remedy that.

Unfortunately, he’s feeling just about as bad as he looks. Being confined to a lumpy bed all day, confronted with the noisy cries of the children’s ward past the door and the uncomfortable sensation of having a plastic tube stuck into his elbow is not his idea of a good time.

“Yo,” says the door.

Nezumi blinks.

The door opens to reveal Inukashi in their school football gear, clutching a KFC bag about half as big as themself. “Want some?”

His mind begs _god yes please_ but his stomach gurgles _no thanks, mate_.

Inukashi raises an eyebrow and Nezumi manages a stiff shake of his head. They shrug and stroll far too energetically over to the plastic chair at his bedside. “Your loss. All the more for me then.”

“Did you just come here to taunt me?” Nezumi snaps, but Inukashi stubbornly ignores him.

“You gonna faint again today?” they ask instead, grinning cheerfully around a mouthful of chicken burger. “It was pretty funny to see the look on the old man’s face when your eyes rolled up into your head.”

Nezumi breathes. _In through the nose, out through the mouth. Calm. Peaceful thoughts._

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot.” They stand suddenly, carelessly dropping the brown bag onto the mattress, and Nezumi lunges to catch it before it falls and spills all over the sterile floors.

“What?” he asks as his sibling yanks open the door, but his confusion is – again – ignored.

_What was the point of that?_ he asks himself as the door slams shut. He swallows a sigh and breathes in deeply –

– and immediately regrets it as the mouth-watering waft of burger-and-fries smell assaults his nasal passage.

… _Oh, fuck it_.

He digs into the massive bag, relishing the greasy crinkling sound of KFC paper wrapping as he pulls out a handful of lovely, salty fries.

One, two, three go into his mouth, and he nearly dies of bliss. All he’s eaten for what feels like a month (but is more like a day and a half) is burnt hospital toast and blanched vegetables.

_Remind me to write them a letter of thanks for gracing the planet with their food_ , he thinks to himself.

The door clicks open again. _Déjà vu_ , he grumbles mentally with a sigh as Inukashi strides smugly over holding – _wait, what?_

Holding flowers.

Lilac flowers.

“You got a secret admirer,” Inukashi sniggers. “Oh, there’s a card too.” They dust the petals off the rectangle and squint at it. “Who the fuck is ‘ _Aster ta – tatari –_ ’ tata-something?”

Nezumi blinks. He takes both the bouquet and the card from his short sibling (much to their protest) and proceeds to read it himself.

The air catches in his throat.

“What? What is it?” Inukashi pesters curiously, trying to read the card over Nezumi’s shoulder; but Nezumi neither hears nor sees them. The small, angular piece of card in his pale hand washes out the rest of reality like bland watercolours as it speaks gently:

_Get well soon._

_– Aster tataricus_

It starts with a smile, strings tugging at the corners of his mouth until he grins to himself like a madman. Then laughter bubbles up in his stomach, fizzing over his tongue and tasting sweetly wonderful.

Inukashi eyes him warily. “You okay?”

Nezumi nods, wiping laughter tears from his eyes and bottling up the childlike giggles that want to escape. “Fine. Absolutely fine.”

“You gonna tell me what’s so funny?”

Nezumi shakes his head – more at the flowers than at Inukashi. “Ridiculous,” he mutters scathingly, though his wide grin betrays the pleasant fluttering feeling and the giddy rush to his head.

 “Huh?”

He glances up. “It’s nothing,” he murmurs. “It’s just - asters are my favourite flower.”

* * *

_One week later_

 

A shy _click_ of the door echoes into Shion's ears, welcoming another student into the classroom.

This unremarkable noise is not what catches Shion's attention, however; what pulls his gaze up from his library copy of _Much Ado About Nothing_ is the following _thump_ and a muffled curse.

The door is being precariously propped open by a crutch. The crutch is attached to a long, black-clad arm. The arm is attached to a tall man standing on one leg, thin lips pulled down into a grimace and black hair falling loose and tangled around bony shoulders.

"Nezumi," Shion whispers.

His conversation with Safu is forgotten as he rushes to help. It is at this motion in Nezumi's peripherals that he finally looks up from his cast - and the expression of surprise at Shion’s sudden appearance quickly morphs into one of amusement.

Shion’s brow furrows in confusion (and a hint of wariness – he’s learned that that unrestrained smirk usually means bad things when it comes to Nezumi). He backs off an inch. “What?” he asks with noticeable caution. “Why are you smiling like that?”

Nezumi’s smirk breaks into a grin, and the sparkle in his eyes is devilish. “No reason, _Aster tataricus_.”

Shion is simultaneously taken aback, surprised and ridiculously embarrassed. He huffs and crosses his arms, averting his eyes from Nezumi’s intensely teasing gaze. “I see you’re feeling better,” he grumbles. Nezumi barks out a laugh.

Shion returns sulkily to his seat, hyperaware of every quiet _tap-tap_ of rubber on carpet. A quick glance confirms that Nezumi has taken his usual seat in front of him, and a breath of relief slips out of his throat – just as Nezumi shoots him one final smirk over his shoulder. _Dammit._

He can feel the heat on his neck and automatically reaches to loosen his collar. He glowers out of the window. _It is too early in the morning for this._

_Still_ , he thinks secretly, _I’m glad he’s back to his old self_.

“Alright, class! Quiet!”

A few students raise their eyebrows at the echoic disembodied voice floating through the walls. The door bursts open a second later to reveal their rather frazzled-looking teacher, and she almost trips over a chair leg on the way to her desk.

“Right, looks like we’ve got some things to sort out before I let you go,” she says distractedly, gathering the papers fluttering to the floor in a frenzy.

“Is she okay?” Shion hears Safu whisper behind him. He shrugs and they exchange a puzzled look.

The teacher sighs deeply and sinks into her chair. “Okay, firstly – let’s welcome Nezumi back; he was discharged from the hospital yesterday. Nice of him to show up. Most kids wouldn’t.”

Shion cringes in secondhand embarrassment at the uncomfortable expression on Nezumi’s face as all eyes turn to him in curiosity.

“Since Nezumi is still sort of incapacitated, however, he’ll need some help carrying his belongings, getting to class, operating the lift, etcetera etcetera. I need someone to volunteer.”

Shion doesn’t hesitate to raise his hand. “I’ll do it.”

She nods at him. “I’ll inform your teachers you might be late to some of their lessons today. What’s your timetable?”

As Shion recites his lessons for that day for her to note down, he feels chestnut eyes boring into the back of his skull. He wonders what Safu thinks of the situation. _She’s probably secretly cheering me on or scolding me for not acting sooner_.

_Never mind_ , he decides with a small smile. _An excuse to spend the whole day with Nezumi? Today is going to be a good day._

* * *

“Which class is next?” Shion asks, hefting Nezumi’s stupidly heavy bag into his arms.

“Latin,” he answers, heading towards a bright, narrow corridor Shion hasn’t been down since his freshman year.

Shion raises an eyebrow. “You study Latin? I didn’t even realise they offered Latin classes here.”

“They do,” Nezumi replies. “On the first floor, in the back left-hand corner of the building.”

“Huh,” Shion mutters to himself in astonishment, considering the new revelation. _I never noticed_. “We’ll take the lift, I guess. I don’t think you can handle three flights of stairs.”

Nezumi huffs a laugh. “The lift it is.”

Shion falls into step beside the taller man. There is a brief lull in conversation; then he asks conversationally, “So, you’re feeling better? You certainly look more energetic than when I last saw you.”

“Yeah. Drugs are amazing things.” He slips a glance in Shion’s direction, humour dancing in grey irises.

Shion sighs with fond exasperation. The conversation halts as they stop at the lift door. A pale hand reaches awkwardly around Nezumi’s bag to push the button, which immediately lights up with a blue upwards arrow.

The lift whirrs and buzzes to life as it crawls up the shaft with a low roar. The familiar sound ignites a flash of memory behind tinted lenses like a flare - and suddenly all Shion sees is flames. Red, yellow, bright and blinding.

_Ding_.

Steel doors slide lazily open and Shion blinks. He follows Nezumi into the metal box and tries to quell the sudden itchy awkwardness writhing in his chest. The reason they were trapped in the fire in the first place... He'd almost forgotten.

Shion watches as Nezumi attempts to puff a strand of hair out of his eyes without letting go of his crutches. A smile threatens when it only results in three more strands falling into the younger man’s field of vision. Nezumi grunts in irritation.

His move is automatic; Shion doesn’t even register it as he reaches up to tuck the rebellious locks behind a pale ear, fingers lingering just a little too long.

Nezumi raises an eyebrow.

Red floods Shion’s face as he realises his actions. “Uh –” he stutters, withdrawing his hand quickly as if burnt. But Nezumi only shows a quirk of a smile before turning away again.

_Things can’t go on like this._

As the lift hauls itself into motion, Shion comes to a quick decision. _I have to tell him. This is… This whole situation is just ridiculous. He’ll find out sooner or later anyway. Look where we are – together, alone, in a place we can’t be disturbed or interrupted or walked in on_.

He flicks a glance at the oblivious taller man humming pleasantly beside him. “Nezumi –” he starts uncertainly.

The humming stops. “Yeah?”

Nezumi is looking at him. Nezumi is _staring_ at him, waiting for a response – and suddenly, Shion isn’t entirely sure how to go about this. Mind blank and entranced, he draws in a deep breath.

“I just want to – finish what I was saying before. You know. Before the fire. I asked you to talk, and – but then we were interrupted, and I thought you should know, you know, since I asked you to listen and I never got around to it and who knows maybe you’ve spent the past week wondering what I’d been planning to say – but that’s stupid, I m-mean you p-probably just forgot about it, especially since you b-broke your leg and stuff, I mean that’s been way more important, um –” He stops abruptly to clear his throat. Nezumi is still staring at him – with an expression of amused impatience.

Shion breathes out a nervous laugh and rakes a hand through choppy locks. “I just wanted to say,” he continues, quieter and more slowly, and reaches to do up the zip on Nezumi’s bag, “that for a long time, Nezumi, I’ve… really liked you. I really like you. Really _like_ you.” He doesn’t look up to meet Nezumi’s eyes, doesn’t want to see his expression, and his voice dwindles into a soft murmur as he hangs the messenger bag on Nezumi’s shoulder. “Maybe even _love_ you.”

_Ding_.

Shion is out of the lift and down the corridor before the doors are fully open.

* * *

Silver eyes are wide and astounded as they watch the albino stride away with all the urgency of a man running from a ravenous lion.

Three steps is all it takes for Nezumi to realise that there is no way he can catch up on crutches, and he curses. He spits out all the filthiest, foulest words he can imagine. A pale hand cards through messy hair and he will _not_ admit that it’s shaking – out of confusion, shock, panic, alarm –

An awkward apology. That’s all he was expecting when Shion began to stammer. A stupid apology for being so selfless, because it’s just like Shion to apologise for wishing he’d been the one to break his leg instead.

But a _confession?_

Nezumi was _not_ expecting _that_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, guys. Or whatever you celebrate. That too.

The door opens. Shion’s head immediately snaps up, and yes – it’s Nezumi.

_Oh god._

The tall man strides in his direction, hindered slightly by the plastic crutches… and he walks right past him, ignoring Shion entirely.

Shion puffs out a whiny sigh. He isn’t surprised. It’s already been two weeks since his… _confession_ (even thinking the word makes him cringe) and Nezumi has barely given him the time of day since. _Okay,_ he tries to reason with himself as he gazes wistfully at the object of his affections (now sitting two rows in front, currently hiding a battered, dog-eared copy of _King Lear_ behind his textbook). _I was expecting some confusion, maybe some awkwardness, or at worst a bit of the cold shoulder. Not…_ He purses his lips in exasperation. _Not whatever this is._

“Shion!” his teacher calls, sounding reasonably irate, and Shion quickly comes to the conclusion that he has been trying to catch Shion’s attention for a good while now.

“Um, yes sir?”

The balding man heaves a gruff sigh. “Were you not listening? I asked you to read out the next paragraph.”

Lilac eyes dart to the dark figure slouched against the wall. Everyone in the room has turned to look – either disapprovingly or with a bored humour – at the bumbling albino.

Everyone, that is, except the one person who matters.

Shion’s heart floods with lead. He begins to read the bland words, but his own voice doesn’t even register in his mind. He’s fairly certain that he sounds somewhat like his pet cat just died, because a couple of the girls are glancing at him with raised eyebrows, but he can’t help it. Safu’s always said he’s like an open book.

The rest of the lesson continues in much the same way. The only word Shion can form in his mind (and in his notes, outlined with a bubble cloud – which over the course of the lesson morphs into a mood-appropriate thundercloud) is ‘Nezumi’. Nezumi this, Nezumi that – it’s really quite distracting.

Shion sighs.

_Maybe it would be better for both of us if we went our separate ways._

The bell rings, and the class lethargically begins to pack up; most of them are only half-awake.

Shion pulls his bag onto the desk to make for easy packing, but quickly feels annoyance bubble in his chest when he sees the soggy fabric. His water has leaked. All over his lunch, his books… everywhere.

He breathes in. Exhales.

_Today really isn’t my day._

* * *

He can feel eyes on him.

Staring, making the hairs on his neck stand on end and his skin prickle and itch.

Nezumi swallows, stubbornly glaring out of the window. It isn’t that he doesn’t _want_ to meet Shion’s expectant gaze… he _can’t._ He finds his own emotions difficult enough to handle, let alone someone _else’s._

_This is giving me a headache._

The tall man raises a pale hand, heedless of the fact that he’s interrupting; the teacher bites back a sigh and responds (with a tinge of annoyance), “Yes, Nezumi?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

The expression on the teacher’s face clearly reads, _What are you, five?_ but he waves an assenting hand anyway, turning hurriedly back to the blackboard.

Nezumi awkwardly gathers the crutches leant against his desk and hobbles out of the classroom.

The drone of the elderly man’s lecture is cut off abruptly as he shuts the heavy wooden door behind him. Faced with the empty silence of the corridor, Nezumi sighs.

He wonders what he’s going to do now. He doesn’t actually need the bathroom – asking to leave had been a bit of an impulsive decision. For lack of something better to do, he readjusts the crutches in his grip and heads towards the bathroom anyway.

It’s not far down the corridor, and when he pushes the dark green door open, the room is empty, even quieter than the hallway. He glances around just in case. Upon reasserting that the bathroom is, in fact, devoid of life, he pulls out a small slip of silver plastic from his coat pocket, pops two of the painkillers into his hand and swallows them dry. He grimaces at the foul taste.

A gentle _clack_ echoes eerily around the tiled room as Nezumi leans the crutches against the counter. He turns on the tap and cups his hands underneath it to gather water. He sips a little of it to wash away the bitter tang of medicine, and the rest is splashed on his face. He rubs wearily at tired eyes as water trickles down to meet the neckline of his t-shirt, darkening the grey fabric; then, still slightly bent over the sink and cupped hands hovering above and dripping onto the counter, he makes the mistake of looking up.

He looks _awful._ The reflection in the rusty mirror gazes darkly back at him - rings of purple outline his eyes, betraying his poor night’s sleep, and the pain from his slowly healing leg has drained the colour from his cheeks. His hair is unbrushed and some is falling loose out of his sloppy attempt at a ponytail, resting limply on bony shoulders and tickling the sides of his neck.

_Shion is in love with this bastard._

Nezumi suddenly stands up straighter, and his jaw sets. He tugs the elastic out and rakes his fingers through the tangles for a good few minutes, until the locks settle pleasantly around his face. A finger tentatively touches the tired purple smear under his eye. _I can’t really do anything about my face… Oh well, this’ll do._ He brushes the creases out of his shirt, wipes a mark off his jeans and raises his chin.

He breathes deeply, blinks slowly.

Nezumi nods fractionally at his reflection in satisfaction and grabs his crutches.

The door swings shut behind him with an explosive _bang_ as he heads down the corridor with renewed determination.

Shion believes in him. He can at least try to believe in himself too.

* * *

_Cool or cheesy?_

Nezumi narrows his eyes at the selection of Doritos taunting him from the rack. He shifts his weight onto the other crutch and stretches his injured leg out a little. He plays absentmindedly with a strand of loose hair as he considers his snacking options, but before he can make a decision, there is a wrinkled, arthritic hand on his arm.

He jumps halfway down the aisle with fright.

"Oh, I'm sorry if I surprised you, dear." And now Nezumi feels very, very stupid, because as it turns out, the offender is nothing more than a kind old lady in a wheelchair.

"It's fine," he mumbles, bending awkwardly to retrieve his dropped crutch and tugging his hood further over his face in an attempt to shield his embarrassment. He has a feeling the old crone can see right through him, but there's no harm in trying. "Can I... Can I help you?"

She smiles. "Sorry to be a bother, but you're a tall young man. Would you mind reaching to the chips for me? My granddaughter seems to have run off somewhere and, well." She gestures to the wheelchair and a spike of guilt pokes at Nezumi's stomach.

"Of course." He points at a random brand on the top shelf. "This one?"

The old lady appears to find that amusing and chuckles to herself. "That will be fine, son."

The chips have barely reached the woman’s hands before a familiar (and not entirely welcome) face pokes around the corner.

"Nezumi?"

"Safu?"

Their incredulous voices, both marred with sneers, chime in unison down the convenience store aisle.

"What were you doing to my grandmother?"

Well. She really _flung_ herself at that conclusion.

Nezumi wrinkles his nose. "Helping her with her shopping, like you were supposed to be doing."

"You know my granddaughter? I say, it really is a small world."

Safu glances at the old lady, and looks visibly pained at having to bite back the comment she so desperately wants to throw at Nezumi. Miraculously, she manages, grabbing hold of her grandmother's wheelchair handles and promptly turning her around. "Sorry Nezumi, we're busy."

But then she pauses, casts back a softer, thoughtful glance in his direction - which lasts just a little too long - and Nezumi has just opened his mouth to say something sarcastic and probably rude, when she finally turns and carts her grandmother away and around the corner.

Nezumi blinks, a little uncertain. However, that uncertainty quickly grows into intense confusion with a tinge of foreboding when Safu reappears at the end of the aisle, grandmother-less and superior as ever.

"What?" Nezumi grouches.

"I want to talk to you." A pause. "About Shion."

A flush creeps up Nezumi's spine. He fights to keep his voice neutral as he replies, "What about him?"

Safu purses her lips. "You know what."

Yes, he most certainly _does_ know what.

"You can't leave him hanging forever, Nezumi. Shion has an abundance of patience, but it's not infinite. Either love him or leave him. Your choice." Her mouth thins and she squares her shoulders. "But do _something._ "

* * *

Nezumi can’t stop those words from ringing in his head.

Even after he’s returned home, where he engages in a satisfyingly distracting argument with Inukashi over picking the wrong flavour of Doritos. Even after he beats Rikiga at chess three times in a row. Even after it gets late and Rikiga leaves to pick up his Woman of the Week (as Inukashi names his flings) and he’s left to stare numbly at unfinished homework while Inukashi blasts offensively loud rap music from their bedroom and their dogs howl and yap over the top of it until he can’t even hear himself think anymore.

Safu’s stern condemnation of his actions (or lack thereof) will not stop taunting him.

He throws his pen down in frustration and slams the textbook shut. He isn’t going to get any homework done at this rate, with his mind so loud and… otherwise occupied. He closes his eyes and rubs at the bridge of his nose, curling up on his swivel chair the best he can with a broken leg and hugging his steaming coffee close to his chest.

Safu had made the whole situation sound so _simple_. Like there’s a yes or no answer where love is concerned. Is there? Is that how emotions work? Does Nezumi only have the two options of “yes Shion I love you” or “no Shion I feel nothing”, like he’s filling in one of those anonymous questionnaires he finds in the mailbox?

If so, he really hopes there’s an “other, please comment” option on this questionnaire, because yes or no isn’t going to cut it.

Nezumi sighs deeply. He lifts the mug to his lips and breathes out, sending miniature waves of coffee skittering across  the surface of the liquid. He takes a sip.

If he’s totally honest with himself, he _does_ feel something for Shion. He’s known it for a while. There’s just something about the man; underneath the irritation, frustration and secondhand embarrassment he feels for him is a deep-rooted sense of warmth and affection, almost the kind he feels for Inukashi or Rikiga on a really good day, but not. It’s more, different. Stronger. Hotter. No matter how much he tries to avoid it or deny its existence, _it’s there_.

The problem lies with how to classify it. Shion said that he _loves_ Nezumi. _Do I love Shion?_ he asks himself without really wanting an answer, tired and frustrated with his own indecision and the vague nature of emotion.

He gazes absently out of the window, at the evening street lit up in gold and orange; at the first flickers of life in the streetlights as the sunset dims and cools. The summer solstice was last week, and the days are as long and as bright as they get; but already there is a noticeable difference as the days begin to shorten and he knows the days only get shorter from here on out. Less yellow, less orange. More grey. More black.

Silver eyes follow a loved-up couple ambling down the street, kissing and holding hands and seeming to radiate golden happiness in the tender light. _Is it really the beginnings of love?_ he wonders as he watches them cuddle by the side of the road. _Or is this just the first real friendship I’ve ever had?_ _If I start something and it turns out to be nothing more than platonic, then I’ve ruined our relationship forever. Whether these feelings are romantic or not, I care about Shion, perhaps more than I’ve ever cared for anyone before. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I lost him._

The man on the street turns away to light a cigarette. _And what if it really is love? Do I even deserve him? He’s happy as he is now, with a wonderful, loving family, a best friend who cares for him deeply and a stable, faultless school record which is sure to stand him in brilliant stead in the future, leading to a secure future and, ultimately, happiness. Isn’t that the aim of life? Happiness?_

_I can’t guarantee him that. For him to get involved with me – multiple school expulsions, a bunch of failing grades, a criminal record and enough emotional baggage to break Atlas’ back – it would reflect badly on him, both personally and professionally. It shouldn’t, but it would. Is it really okay for me to put his entire future in jeopardy just for some fledgling romance which might not even outlast the summer?_

Nezumi exhales harshly into his coffee. Bubbles pop defiantly back at him.

* * *

“– Don’t you think so, Safu?”

Safu blinks, startled out of her reverie. “What?” she asks of the girl beside her. Apparently they’d been having a conversation while she was thinking over the list for this evening’s grocery shopping.

The brunette rolls her eyes in good humour. “Miki and I were just talking about how good that new movie looks. You must’ve seen the trailer for it – it’s been playing _everywhere_. Man, I can’t remember its name.” She glances helplessly at Miki, who shrugs in a _don’t-ask-me_ sort of way. “You know, the one with that guy – what was his name –” She clicks her fingers as if it will help her to remember his name, and Safu watches and waits with boredom. As a general rule, she’s disinterested in movies whose only appeal is the hotness of the actors who are in them.

But then Miki and her friend (for the life of her Safu can’t remember her name) freeze, coming abruptly to a jerking halt in front of an empty classroom.

“Oh my god,” Miki whispers.

Safu follows their line of sight, and –

 _Shit_.

Through the open door, the classroom is mostly visible – if you can even call it a classroom anymore. The desks, chairs, bookshelves are all upturned, and whatever once rested on them is scattered and broken across the floor. The wind whistles through a crack in the window and the smashed lightbulbs drip flecks of glass. The rest of the occupants appear to have fled, but standing statue-still in the centre of the room, the eye of the storm, is –

Safu gasps.

* * *

The keyboard blurts quiet sounds of protest at him as he idly presses down keys at random. Music class isn’t really fun without Shion. With Shion’s compositional genius and Nezumi’s talent for performance, they make a brilliant team.

Without anything to perform, though, Nezumi finds himself rather lost.

_Why isn’t he here?_

Shion had been in his first two classes of the day – Nezumi is _sure_ he’s seen him today – but now he’s MIA without any explanation whatsoever. Nezumi had even asked Mr. Knox if he knew where Shion was – but at that question the usually bright and cheerful teacher had clammed up and left the room with some pathetic excuse.

Nezumi wearily pulls out the sheet music Shion had composed for their class performance next week and lazily rearranges it on the stand for a few moments before actually beginning to play it. If Shion isn’t here to further the music, the least Nezumi can do is practise it a little. It’s been a while since he’s played at home, anyway. He could probably use the practice. _I don’t want to get rusty_.

He’s just reached the ninth bar for the third time when he hears something that freezes his fingers in place.

“– about Shion?”

Nezumi pricks his ears automatically at the mention of the name and he concentrates on picking the conversation out, the hum and buzz of the rest of the class fading into the background. He doesn’t turn around for fear of interrupting the flow of conversation.

A female voice replies with a gossipy interest, “No, why? Did something happen?” She suddenly gasps and continues in a lower tone that Nezumi almost doesn’t catch, “Does this have something to do with that classroom incident?”

Nezumi’s brow furrows. _‘Classroom incident’?_

“Uh-huh,” the first voice confirms enthusiastically. “How much have you heard already?”

“Not much,” she admits. “It only happened like, an hour ago. I just know that someone went batshit crazy in a classroom or something.”

“Pretty much, yeah,” the first voice says.

Nezumi’s heart begins to race. What the fuck does Shion have to do with a trashed classroom? _He wouldn’t… would he?_ A heavy feeling of dread settles in his lungs.

She continues in a casual tone, as if what she’s saying is a normal, everyday occurrence. “I don’t know exactly why, but Shion just went _insane_ and completely trashed the classroom, and everyone had to run for their lives. Apparently he was the scariest thing anyone had ever seen. I heard the school is going to sue his family for damages, and Shion’s been suspended. Personally, I’m surprised it’s only for a month. Maybe he has teacher’s pet privileges or something.”

Nezumi can’t breathe. He stands and just about manages to grab his crutches and leave the classroom before collapsing against the nearest wall.

 _Shion?_ he thinks frantically. _Why? Fuck, is he okay? What happened?_

His vision begins to sparkle as his breathing escalates, the extra oxygen overloading his brain and sending stars flying across his eyes. He deliberately slows his breathing and braces himself with one hand against the wall, shutting his eyes. He concentrates.

Nezumi opens his eyes and takes a final deep breath, letting his vision blur a little before settling on something resembling normal. _God,_ he thinks to himself far more calmly – though with just as much worry.

_God, please let him be okay._


	13. Chapter 13

_Three weeks later_

 

Nezumi winces.

The doctor seems to notice and spares him a glance from her kneel beside the patient bed as she continues to slowly remove the cast. “Yes, the leg will be sore for a few more weeks. Be gentle. No extraneous physical work, since the bone will still be a little fragile.”

Nezumi nods as he eyes the yellowing bruises now visible around the breakage point. It had been a small, clean break, luckily. Otherwise he would’ve been facing many more weeks on the crutches. It didn’t particularly bother him – past the general inconvenience regarding stairs, of course, but there were usually lifts available – but it struck him in the heart just a little every time Shion gave him a pained glance, as if it was _him_ with the broken leg. It stirred a horrible mixture of guilt and irrational annoyance in his stomach. Shion didn’t need to worry so much; Nezumi is perfectly capable of looking after himself, thanks very much. Broken leg or not.

“Ouch,” he hisses as the leg is unexpectedly pulled while the splints are tugged free of the remaining bandages.

The woman raises an eyebrow. “Does it hurt a lot?” she asks, pausing momentarily in her work.

“What?” Nezumi is a little taken aback, blinking himself out of his thoughts. “No, no, it’s… It’s fine.”

“Oh.” She continues, and after a brief moment, she murmurs quietly, “Is there something on your mind? You were never this spaced out during our examinations.”

“What?” Nezumi repeats dumbly.

The doctor continues as if he hadn’t interrupted. “If there’s something bothering you, you should sort it out. Running from problems rarely ever solves them.” She runs a hand swiftly over the skin, double-checking for irregularities before standing. “I’m done.”

Nezumi tentatively touches the bare sole of his foot to the cold tiled floor, testing his weight before slowly, slowly standing. He shifts his weight around a bit. Minimal pain. “Thanks,” he says as he pulls on the sock and boot he’d brought.

“Just doing my job.” She flashes him a smile and takes the proffered crutches from him, leaning them against the wall before opening the door for him. “Now, don’t forget to do those exercises I explained. It’ll speed the healing process and make sure your leg heals back to perfect shape.”

He nods firmly. He’s halfway down the corridor when he hears her call to him. “Oh, and Nezumi – if anything strange happens, or you’re in more pain than you think you should be, don’t hesitate to book an appointment.”

Nezumi nods again with a polite smile before strolling – gently – out of the clinic.

The warm summer breeze caresses his cheek and playfully teases his hair. It gratefully carries away his mournful sigh – no room for sadness in such lovely weather, it says.

He pauses at the edge of the sidewalk, checking meticulously for vehicles. His walk has slowed significantly due to the tender bone and the last thing he wants right now is to have his leg (and both his arms, and maybe a few ribs) re-broken by a bus.

He makes it to the other side of the road without incident. With a huff of relief, he starts towards West Block, eager to retire to his room and curl up with some coffee and Shakespeare.

Three blocks down, he stops.

He turns on his heel (his good heel) and with a change of heart and worry gnawing at the joints of his spine, he heads towards Lost Town.

* * *

Nezumi thanks his lucky stars that Shion had previously given him his address, with an additional note with directions. All the houses here look the same.

He’d initially been quite surprised at the discovery that teacher’s pet and all-around Student of the Year lives in a dump like Lost Town. Of course, he’s one to talk – he comes from _West Block_. Lost Town is a paradise in comparison.

Nezumi dutifully follows the pitiful hand-drawn map through numerous winding streets, the dazzling July sun mottled pleasantly by the unkempt, overgrown trees littering the roadside. He wonders if perhaps, when it was first built, Lost Town was quite an attractive place to be; the meticulously crafted bronze fountain in the central plaza would certainly suggest so.

Eventually his nose is tickled by the most _wonderful_ smell, and Nezumi’s mind flashes back to a previous conversation he’d had over lunch –

“ _My mother runs a bakery. She’s the best baker in the world!_ ”

Nezumi had been dubious about the claim at the time, but here, faced with the most gorgeous scent of flour he’s ever had the luxury to be embraced by, he’s beginning to doubt his own cynicism on the matter.

He approaches the bakery cautiously, despite its inviting smell and friendly shop sign. At the doorstep, he falters – would it be weird to knock on the door of a shop, even if it was also someone’s house? Or would it be rude to enter without announcing himself?

Before he can come to a decision, the door is opened for him. He blinks. _How’d she know –_

Ah, yes. Glass door.

“May I help you?” greets a cheerful plump woman, with a round face and big brown eyes. She reminds Nezumi faintly of a doll; or at least, she _would_ , was she not covered in a sheet of flour and brown sugar.

“Um,” he starts hesitantly, “is Shion home?”

There’s a beat of silence before the woman’s face lights up with realisation. “Oh,” she says, and somehow manages to make it sound heavy with meaning. Her shining saleswoman smile widens and softens into something far more homely, and despite her radically different build and colouring, she suddenly looks the splitting image of Shion.

Nezumi blinks.

“I’m afraid he’s not,” she apologises with a light chuckle. “He’s at work right now.” She pauses slightly, thoughtful. “He said he’d be back for dinner soon, though. You can wait here if you want.”

“Really?” he asks without thinking. “I mean, I don’t want to intrude…”

She shrugs and laughs again. The sound is clear like a bell. “You’re not intruding. I could do with some company anyway, to help me eat the leftover merchandise.”

That _is_ quite a tempting offer. The merchandise promises to be absolutely delicious. Nezumi tries for a smile. “Thanks.”

She grins at him and lets him through. She takes a pastry from the basket on the counter as she passes it, and Nezumi does the same as he follows her into the back room. It’s narrow and long, like most of the houses in this street, and the radio in the corner is playing softly. A dining table with two chairs sit next to one of the wide windows, and a sofa and coffee table face an outdated television set. The rest of the room is full of shelves and cupboards and cabinets, all overflowing with odd knick-knacks and personal items. Coupled with the yellow-cream walls and brown carpet bathed in sunlight, the room has a very warm, lived-in atmosphere.

Nezumi decides he likes it.

“Please, take a seat,” the woman offers as she drops herself onto the sofa with a content sigh.

Nezumi stands awkwardly in the doorway for a moment longer before sitting next to her.

She turns to him and laughs suddenly. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, didn’t I? I’m Karan. Shion’s mother. And you must be Nezumi.”

His head snaps up at the mention of his name. “How –?”

“Shion’s told me lots about you. I took a wild guess.”

_Oh, right_. He breathes a sigh. “He’s told me a lot about you, too.” He takes a bite of the pastry and nearly _faints_. It’s like heaven is melting on his tongue. He swallows before speaking. “You really are as good a baker as he says you are. I thought he was just biased, but…”

Karan giggles. “You flatter me. I’m not that good.” She tugs off a bite of her own pastry. “So, I hear you transferred recently. Did you move into the area?”

“No, I just switched schools,” he explains, deciding to leave out the gory details of his past. “I… had a bit of trouble at my old one.”

“Ah, I see.” Karan nods sagely. “Excuse me if this is a rude question, but how did you manage to get in? The entrance fees are appalling and there are all sorts of entrance exams before they even _consider_ taking in a student. No offence, but you don’t seem the ostentatious rich boy type.”

Nezumi opts to take that as a compliment. “My old man, he… Well, to be honest, I don’t really know,” he admits with an uncertain chuckle. “All I know is that we don’t have to pay a thing.”

Karan looks stunned. She quickly recovers with a sharp laugh. “My, your father sounds like quite a man,” she remarks with surprised amusement. “I used to know someone like that, when I was younger. I haven’t seen him for – god, it must be about twenty years now. Awfully underhanded, but as sweet as anything.”

Nezumi raises an eyebrow. _Looks like the whole family is a bunch of eccentrics_. “What about Shion?” he asks. “If you’re living in Lost Town, then…”

“Scholarship,” Karan explains simply, her voice laced with pride. “The top five percent of scores on the entrance exam are given a scholarship. As long as he maintains his grades, he has a free place at the school.”

“Right.” Nezumi nods his agreement. It hadn’t really crossed his mind before, but now that he thinks about it, it seems obvious.

A comfortable silence ensues, and he uses the opportunity to take another bite out of the crisp golden pastry. Karan hums amiably along to the song on the radio from beside him.

“Say,” he begins after a moment of thought, “did Shion happen to mention the details of how he got suspended?”

Karan shoots him a confused glance. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No.” Nezumi shakes his head with a shrug he hopes looks casual. “I wasn’t there. By the time I’d heard about it, he’d left the premises. And the teachers weren’t exactly jumping at the chance to tell everyone about it.”

Karan’s expression turns a little strange then, and Nezumi can’t quite decipher it. Her mouth quirks up into a half-smile she’s clearly trying to hide, and there is a knowing glint in her eyes that immediately sets Nezumi on edge. “Shion didn’t say much about it himself, but of course being the responsible parent I was personally informed of the situation by his class teacher.

“According to her, he suddenly flew into a rage in the middle of class for no reason – shouting things that should not be said in an educational environment – and violently assaulted another student. He landed at least two decent punches before the teacher restrained him. By this point, the rest of the students had left to find the headmaster, and the teacher had to carry the injured student to the medical wing as Shion had knocked him unconscious. After the object of his anger had been removed from the scene, he took out his frustrations on his surroundings, leading to several hundred dollars’ worth of school equipment being destroyed.”

Nezumi isn’t quite sure how to react, the shock numbing his system. Since when would Shion ever do something like that? “You sound awfully calm about this.”

Karan laughs, then. “Yes, well, I wasn’t at the time. I was _furious_. I made sure he knew exactly how I felt about his behaviour – I think the lecture lasted a good hour, and he looked thoroughly ashamed by the end of it. But staying angry with him forever wouldn’t do either of us any good, would it?” She pauses, a thoughtful look crossing her features. “I was actually planning to pay the damages myself, but it was Shion’s idea to get a part-time job to pay back the school out of his own pocket. He seemed so determined to right his wrongs that I agreed. I think taking that sort of responsibility for your actions is a far better life lesson than being shouted at by a load of adults, anyway.”

There is a beat of silence in which Nezumi is overcome with warmth for this woman. “Yeah,” he agrees belatedly. “I guess you’re right.”

He finishes off the pastry with one last mouthful. “So… why did he flip out in the first place? I don’t believe for one second that there was no reason behind it.”

The strange expression returns to Karan’s face, and this time she can’t conceal the knowledgeable smile. “He wasn’t in a very coherent mood when he spoke about it, but from what I can gather, the student had said something very nasty about someone he cares about.”

Nezumi blinks, taken aback. _That’s all?_ “Do you know who?”

Karan’s smile glows. “You.”

_What?_

Nezumi is suddenly very glad he’d finished the pastry, because otherwise he would have dropped it on the floor, which would have been a waste of a perfectly good pastry. He’s aware that he probably has the facial expression of a startled goldfish, and tries to school it into something more composed and less ridiculous. He only succeeds in turning a deeper shade of red.

_For me?_ he thinks with a panic. _Just because someone badmouthed me?_

There is anxiety, embarrassment, confusion, fear. There are suddenly many, many bad feelings piling up in Nezumi’s gut as the seed of dread plants itself in his stomach.

_Calm down, you’re just freaking out,_ he reassures himself. _He didn’t do anyone any serious damage. If you overheard someone spewing crap about Shion, what would you do?_ he asks himself. _How would you feel?_

He is surprised by the intensity of his reaction.

“Are you okay?” Karan’s voice drags him back into reality, and he takes a breath.

“Yeah,” he assures her. “Just… surprised.” He runs a hand over his face. Karan pats him on the shoulder, and the panic slowly fades, and the terrible sinking feeling lifts. He is surprised to discover that in its place now lies something warmer. Something invigorating that has his heartbeat accelerating in an entirely different way.

_Shion got suspended for my sake. Even if it was stupid._

He tries not to think about it too much.

It doesn’t work.

“So…” he murmurs after a long minute, in a forced effort to distract himself, “he’s at work right now, huh? What kind of job did he get?”

Karan plays along, to Nezumi’s relief. “He found an ad in the newspaper for someone who needed help washing their dogs.”

Nezumi freezes. _Dogs?_ “Really? Did he mention who this person was?”

“The ad didn’t mention a name. I thought it was a bit of a strange job, but Shion seemed enthusiastic.”

His reaction is a little delayed.“I see. I guess it would be fun, if you liked animals.”

He feels his thigh vibrate, and pulls out his cell. The message is from Rikiga. It reads, _wher u?. ru ok,,_

Nezumi sighs. _He’s drunk again._ “Sorry,” he says to Karan with an apologetic smile. “I’ve got to go.”

“You didn’t even get to see Shion,” she replies, standing up to see him out of the door. At Nezumi’s shrug, she adds, “Oh well. I’ll tell him you dropped by.”

“Thanks.” Nezumi knows it’s about time he stopped acting like a bastard just because it’s awkward talking to someone when you know there are romantic feelings involved.

_Especially when they might be reciprocated._

It’ll probably be a good thing if Shion knows he at least made an effort.

“Take care of yourself,” Karan calls from the doorway as he heads down the street, and Nezumi throws her a friendly wave over his shoulder.

* * *

He lets himself into the house, and is greeted by the smell of booze.

“Where’d you go?” Rikiga slurs as he follows Nezumi into the kitchen. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

“Got the cast removed,” Nezumi answers absentmindedly as he rummages through the refrigerator.

There’s a pause as Rikiga stares pointedly at Nezumi’s leg and lack of crutches. “Oh right. But that doesn’t take hours.”

Nezumi doesn’t reply for a long moment, and when he does, his voice is cursedly weak. “I went for a walk.”

“I bet he was meeting with his _special friend_.”

Nezumi shoots a glare at Inukashi as they wander in from the garden. He glances idly out of the window – and nearly chokes on his own tongue. Kneeling in the middle of his garden, muddy, soapy and clinging cheerfully onto a wet dog, is Shion.

But before Nezumi can give anything away, Rikiga catches on to Inukashi’s suggestion. “What?”

Inukashi’s smirk is devilish. “You know, the mysterious person he gave his jacket to. The person he thinks about morning, noon and night, the person who–”

“Oh shut up,” Nezumi grumbles as he grabs the milk carton and an empty bowl, somehow managing to retain composure as he subtly turns his back to the window. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Inukashi cackles. “Oh c’mon, I _know_ there’s someone. Who is it? You’re always staring into the distance nowadays.”

“No I’m not!” Nezumi snarls maybe a little too loudly, and by the startled look on Inukashi’s face, he guesses that he’s just blown his cover. He aggressively tears open the cereal box and pours haphazardly, spilling cornflakes on the counter.

“Oh wow,” Inukashi murmurs after a moment. “There really _is_ someone, isn’t there? I was just fishing.”

_And I fell for it_. He feels like an idiot.

“Is it the jacket person?”

Nezumi is silent, and Inukashi barks out a baffled laugh. “So who is it? Do they like you back? What kind of lowlife could stand to be in your presence anyway?”

“It’s none of your business,” Nezumi growls, sloshing milk onto the cereal and grabbing a spoon.

Inukashi rolls their eyes, stepping in front of him as he tries to pass. “You’re not getting out of it that easily. This is juicy!”

Nezumi tries for his harshest glare, but as per usual, it’s ineffective. He tries to sidestep them, but Inukashi is light on their feet. They snatch the cereal right out of his hands, holding it out of reach.

“Come _on_ , just one thing. Tell me one thing about them and you can eat your cereal.”

Nezumi sighs, and resists the urge to rub the bridge of his nose. “He’s outside.”

Inukashi raises an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“Right now, he’s outside. In the garden.”

Inukashi peers over Nezumi’s shoulder, through the window, and their face takes on a dumbstruck expression. “You – _him?_ My dog-washer?”

“The very one,” Nezumi deadpans. He holds out a hand. “My cereal, mutt.”

Inukashi doesn’t protest as Nezumi takes the bowl back and strides out of the kitchen. However, three steps into the hallway, he hears them call mockingly, “If you want to win him over, you should trying _serenading_ him. That voice can get you into anyone’s pants.”

Nezumi ignores them, dropping onto the living room couch and turning on the TV. He tries to let the mindless noise and cold milk numb his thoughts, but the ridiculous idea sticks around long after his show is over; it festers in the back of his mind as he hears Shion leave, grows roots as he eats dinner, and keeps him awake as he lies in bed that night.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I edited this and re-edited it and re-re-edited it and asked my glorious friend/beta to edit this and then it came to a point where there was just nothing left to edit. So I'm posting despite its inadequacy. Please forgive.

“Hey!” Shion yelps indignantly as the dog shivers, sending a spray of suds in all directions. “You’re supposed to stay still, so I can wash you.”

“Having fun?”

Shion looks up at the rough voice of his boss as they approach. He grins. “Yeah.”

Inukashi’s expression is one of amused incredulity. “You’re a nutcase. Who actually enjoys this stuff?”

Shion shrugs and laughs self-consciously. “Me, apparently.” The dog in his arms yaps impatiently, and he gives her a short glare. “Okay, okay! I was talking to your owner.” He returns to his scrubbing and Inukashi puffs out a disbelieving chuckle.

They drop onto the grass a safe distance away from the water, and watch Shion for a while in comfortable silence – Shion can feel the dark eyes boring into him. It doesn’t bother him. He’s only held this job for a couple of weeks, but he can already tell that underneath their gruff exterior Inukashi is a really nice person.

Inukashi snickers to themself as they observe Shion’s concentrated scrubbing. “If you carry on working like that, I might let you help me walk them, too.”

“Really? That would be great!” Shion’s grin is so wide his cheeks are aching, but he can’t help it. He’s become so attached to the dogs in such a short time. Inukashi, too.

Inukashi grimaces. “Geez, how can you wear that brainless expression? I get embarrassed just looking at you.”

Shion laughs freely as the dog sends more muddy water splattering onto his cardigan. “I can’t help it.”

“I gathered,” Inukashi muttered through a wry smile. They settle into a calm lull in conversation, filled only by the splashing of water and bubbling of muddy lather. Shion finds the repetitive motions calming, therapeutic almost; he catches himself with half-lidded eyes and sharply blinks himself awake again.

“What happened inside?” falls out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he immediately curses his loose and sleepy tongue.

“Huh?” Inukashi questions, an eyebrow raised as they idly scratch at their neck.

Shion clears his throat awkwardly, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. “I just mean, uh… You said you were going inside for ice cream, but you were inside for a good fifteen minutes, and I heard shouting, and now you’ve come outside again without ice cream. I was wondering if something happened.”

Inukashi blinks, momentarily taken aback, as if they’d already forgotten all about it. But then a predatory smirk spreads across their face, and knowledge glints in dark eyes. They seem to be considering something, casting secretive glances back in the direction of the house. It feeds Shion’s curiosity even more. “Oh, something really interesting happened. Turns out, it really _is_ a small world.”

Shion pauses then, to send Inukashi a confused look. “How do you mean?”

Black eyes narrow in consideration, thoughtful, as if wondering whether to tell him or not. Shion wonders at this – is he asking for personal information? But Inukashi doesn’t seem to particularly mind his curiosity, and their smirk grows into a wolfish grin as they answer, “It turns out you know my dipshit brother.”

“I do?” Shion is growing more perplexed by the moment. His thorough scrubbing has turned into idle strokes, and his pale brows have knitted themselves together in bemusement.

Inukashi starts laughing; hearty guffaws you wouldn’t think could be produced by such a small frame. “You… What a case! How’d a space case like you get involved with that bastard?”

Okay, now Shion is not only bewildered but also a little unnerved. Who the hell is Inukashi talking about? It’s not as if he has many acquaintances, so it must be someone he knows well enough to remember clearly. He’s met all of Safu’s friends and relatives, and most of his own besides his mother are dead or gone…

_Didn’t Nezumi say he had a sister?_

“Oh!” Shion exclaims suddenly, and nearly tips the bucket of water over in realisation. “You’re Nezumi’s sister!”

“Sibling,” Inukashi corrects drily. “Did he say sister? That son of a bitch,” they grumble.

Shion blinks, readjusting his glasses self-consciously. “Sorry. He didn’t tell me.” Now that he thinks about it, he’s never seen Inukashi in anything other than a plain t-shirt and shorts.

Inukashi shrugs with a contented sigh as they lean back on their arms and drink in the summer sunlight. “S’okay. He’s always doing that. I think it’s revenge for that one time I cut up his favourite dress to make blankets for the dogs.”

There are many things in that sentence Shion isn’t sure how to feel about, but he mentions none of them.

“Anyway, that stuff’s boring. I wanna know about _you_.” Inukashi scoots closer. “Nezumi won’t tell me anything.”

“Me?” he repeats with a tinge of dread at the approaching conversation. He isn’t used to talking about himself. “I guess… my mother runs a bakery?” he asks more than states. “She’s really good at baking. It’s really popular and we get so many customers on some days that I have to help so we can serve two at a time, otherwise the shop is overloaded with people.”

Inukashi’s expression turns thoughtful. “Huh. Maybe I’ll pay you a visit sometime then. Might be able to get some free snacks.”

Shion laughs. “Probably.”

* * *

“See you on Thursday,” Shion says on the doorstep. “And thanks again.”

Inukashi rolls their eyes from the doorway. “You don’t need to thank me every time, you know.”

Shion lets out an awkward chuckle. “Yeah.”

“See ya later.”

Shion waves as he departs, and the front door is shut firmly as he steps onto the sidewalk. He gives the house a long look. _This is Nezumi’s house. How many times have I been here already and not realised? I wonder if he’s seen me around. He must have. Inukashi knew about Nezumi and me, so he must have told them._

He turns and heads home down the dirty streets of West Block. He pulls his hat further down and tries not to look suspicious, but Inukashi has already warned him about all the dangerous places he should avoid, so he isn’t too worried. Not even the potential threat of being mugged can take the spring out of his step right now.

Lost Town isn’t too far away, and it only takes him a half hour before he can smell home. The unique scent of bakery is strong, even from the end of the street.

The shop bell tinkles cheerily above him, announcing his arrival and welcoming him inside. “I’m home.”

“Welcome back!” comes the muffled voice of Karan from somewhere else in the house.

He strips off his cardigan, now thick with mud and heavy with water, and heads for the washing machine in the basement. There’s a basket full of dirty colours waiting patiently beside the machine, so he shoves the whole lot in together.

Karan’s footsteps echo as she joins him at the machine, holding an armful of school shirts. “How was work?” she asks, dropping the clothes onto the whites pile.

“Great.” He grins broadly. “The weather was really nice today, so we washed the dogs outside, which was easier. And Inukashi said they might let me walk the dogs too!”

Karan’s smile reflects his own. “That’s nice. It would certainly be a far cleaner job than this one. At this rate, we’re going to have to buy you more clothes because they’re all in the wash!”

Shion laughs. “Hopefully not. Buying clothes is boring. Hang on, I’ll make some coffee.”

“Don’t over-brew it again,” Karan warns, but she only receives more laughter and an unreliable-sounding, “I’ll try!” in response as Shion leaps up the stairs two at a time.

He’s searching for two clean mugs in the cupboard as he hears his mother’s voice call up to him.  “Oh, and Nezumi dropped by today.”

He nearly drops the mugs on the floor. “He – he did?”

“Yeah. He wanted to talk to you so I let him wait here for a while, but he had to go home before he had the chance.”

Shion isn’t sure what to say. Nezumi has been avoiding him for _weeks_ – he was sure that whatever they’d had, some kind of tentative friendship, had been destroyed by his confession.

Apparently not.

What had Nezumi wanted to talk about? Did he just want to make it official that their friendship is over? Surely he wouldn’t be so nasty as to come and rub Shion’s feelings in his face. And even if he did, it’s been a month already. Wouldn’t he have done it sooner, if it was something like that?

Karan joins him in the kitchen and takes over on the coffee-making front, as it seems the new knowledge has frozen all of Shion’s joints in place. He numbly watches as she turns on the kettle and spoons the coffee into the coffee press. She eyes him thoughtfully. “I don’t think it was about anything bad, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“How can you tell? You don’t know for sure that he was trying to make up.” He hadn’t meant to sound so pathetic, but Karan only gives him a sympathetic, motherly look.

She shrugs. “He wouldn’t have waited here for so long if he only planned to be rude. And he seemed nervous.” She looks as if she’s about to say something else, but then she turns back to the whistling kettle and shakes her head as she pours.

“You shouldn’t put boiling water in,” Shion mumbles. It earns him a flick to the nose. “Ow.”

Karan is smiling. “Say that again after you’ve learned not to leave the coffee brewing for fifteen minutes.”

* * *

_Nezumi stopped by._

Shion turns the words over and over in his mind, dissecting them and stitching them back up repeatedly, searching for some possible hidden motive. Yet he could find none, and his mother had seemed pretty certain that Nezumi was here on good terms. As much as Shion doubts Nezumi’s intentions, he trusts his mother.

He reaches for his cell on the nightstand and stares at the blank screen for a good minute, chewing nervously on his lip with indecision. He and Nezumi had exchanged numbers shortly before everything went to shit, but they’d never had cause to message each other.

Until now.

Shion puffs out a long, determined sigh and finally begins scrolling through his contacts. There aren’t very many – he’s hardly a social butterfly, after all – and so it doesn’t take long to find Nezumi’s name squished between _Mama_ and _Safu_.

Pale, bony fingers hover hesitantly above the keypad. _What do I say?_ he asks himself blankly, totally lost. He isn’t even particularly sure what he wants to talk about. Maybe thank Nezumi for dropping by? But that would sound formal and unnatural, like his mother had goaded him into it to be polite. He could ask Nezumi _why_ he dropped by… but that might sound like he was guarded and suspicious.

_I’m over-thinking this._

He shakes his head in frustration at himself, ruffling the white locks, and pushes his glasses up his nose as he begins to type.

_Did you kno_

He backpedals. Huffs.

_How ar_

Backspace, backspace, backspace.

_I got a job working for yo_

“For god’s sake!” he exclaims at himself, fighting the urge to just throw the offensive technology at the wall. He takes three deep breaths, rubs at his neck, and erases everything again.

This process – begin, erase, sulk – continues for another ten minutes as Shion lets himself agonise over every word, questioning all different meanings and interpretations. He even starts to second-guess his typing style before he sees he has an incoming call from Safu. The panic sets in and he quickly makes up his mind, hurriedly sending the text in his rush to answer before Safu hangs up in boredom.

* * *

Nezumi’s phone buzzes somewhere near his left ear. He languidly rolls over on the bed and fumbles for the cell on his pillow, swearing under his breath at being woken up from his nap. _This had better be a fucking good text_ , he grumbles mentally.

It takes his sleepy self a couple of tries to get his passcode right. His heart throws itself into hurried action when he reads the sender name, and he immediately blinks himself awake. _Shion?_ he thinks, confused and pleasantly surprised. He opens the text.

_Inukashi is supper nice_

His head hits the pillow with a muffled _thump_. For a moment, Nezumi isn’t quite sure how to react. He eyes the spelling mistake. _Is he drunk or just an idiot?_ he wonders faintly, before deciding that he is definitely not in the mood to deal with Shion’s stupidity right now – especially if it’s _drunk_ stupidity – and promptly goes back to sleep.

* * *

_This is so stupid_ , Shion rants mentally as he rolls around on his bed, as he has been doing for the past half hour. _I’m stuck here at home with absolutely nothing to do – I can’t even study because I’ve missed so many classes that I don’t understand anything anymore!_ He groans with irritable boredom and flips onto his back, his thoughtful gaze fixed on some point far beyond the off-white ceiling. The last time he’d left the house was two days ago when he’d gone to work and discovered Nezumi’s link to Inukashi. He’d finished all his homework ages ago, and when he’d tried to call Safu this morning she’d answered with obvious annoyance, snapping that he was ‘interrupting her study time’ and ‘could he please call back later’.

Shion angrily propels himself sideways – and almost finds his face becoming a very close acquaintance with the carpet, barely catching himself with a stray hand and knee. He sighs with frustration and somehow manages to gather himself into a standing position. He absently rakes a hand through mussed-up hair.

“Shion!” Karan hollers from downstairs, and said man almost jumps out of his skin with shock.

“Yeah?”

“Could you come down here a sec?”

He’s downstairs like a thunderbolt. “What’s the matter?” he asks – no, _pleads_.

 _Give me something to do_.

Karan merely raises an eyebrow at her son’s antics. “The shop is pretty busy right now,” she says, and Shion suddenly notices the crowd of people surrounding her. “Could you please run some errands for me? There are some ingredients I need to stock up on, but the shop that sells them closes soon.”

Shion’s grin is bright and eager. “Sure.”

* * *

The sigh that escapes Shion’s lips is disappointed. It hadn’t taken long to find the right shop, and all she’d needed were poppy seeds and brown flour. He trudges back through the baking noon streets, busy and bustling with people eager to celebrate the weekend, and wishes he could share their enthusiasm. Suspension had sounded almost fun at first – a whole month without school? It’s a delinquent’s paradise. Unfortunately, Shion is no delinquent, and it had only taken a week for the pain of regret to sink in. In just a few short days his life had become an endless string of dreary moments at home, sighing to himself or wishing there was someone he could talk to, something he could do to pass the time during school hours.

At least he’s going back to school on Monday. _I can wait just a couple more days_ , he reassures himself, and it works, just a bit.

He’s at the front door before he realises it, and he lets himself in with a resigned sigh, offering a few polite smiles to friendly customers before unceremoniously dumping the ingredients on the kitchen counter and heading upstairs.

He pauses in the doorway to his bedroom, momentarily lost for what to do. An idea strikes him, and he grins at the prospect of finding something interesting to pass the time. He heads for his schoolbag, angrily dumped in the corner to brood last month, and unzips. He rummages through papers and papers and papers, all wedged awkwardly and bent backwards trying to accommodate the hefty textbooks sandwiching them.

 _That’s weird,_ he thinks. _I swear I put it in here._

A good minute later, Shion realises that his sheet music is most definitely _not_ in his backpack. His brow furrows in confusion and thought. _Did I already take it out for some reason?_ he wonders, rubbing idly at his neck. _I don’t remember looking at it since before I got suspended._

It hits him.

“You _idiot!_ ” Shion hisses at himself, slapping a palm to his forehead. Nezumi had asked to practise the new passages, and Shion had handed over the music – of course, he hadn’t been expecting to be separated from Nezumi for the next month. _Nezumi still has it._

Shion scrambles to find his phone. This time, he quickly types and sends _Do you have my sheet music?_ with neither hesitation nor obsessive thought to the message content.

A minute later a reply flashes at him impatiently. _Yeah_ , it reads. _You want it?_

 _If you’re not using it_ , he replies, wondering tensely if this civil conversation means Nezumi and he are back on good terms. Perhaps that last text, however awkward and not-replied-to, really did break the ice.

At the very least it seems to have broken Nezumi’s icy persona. _Actually, I was thinking of using it for origami. I could use some practice._

Shion is torn between laughing and sighing in frustration. _Very funny._

_Meet at school in 20 minutes?_

_Why school?_ Shion replies, puzzled.

_I left something in my locker yesterday. Two birds with one stone._

Shion shrugs at no one. _Ok_.

* * *

In the end it takes him a much longer than twenty minutes – he’d punctured a tyre on his bike just one street away from his house and had to take it back home again, and it always takes longer to walk to school than cycle.

Shion worries his lip between his teeth as he approaches the building, empty and looming and somehow intimidating without the usual hustle and bustle of students. He neurotically checks his watch for the third time this minute and increases his pace until he’s almost breaking out into a clear run. He's fifteen minutes late, and Nezumi isn't exactly known for his patience. _What if he's already left?_

For some reason, Shion is immensely nervous about this meet-up. His instincts are whispering that something is a little off. Maybe it’s the fact that Nezumi didn’t just return the sheet music when he’d visited Karan, or maybe it’s that he wants to meet at school, which, to be perfectly honest, has Shion more than a little suspicious. Who goes to school on Saturdays just to pick something up from their locker?

He pushes on the front door and breathes a heavily sigh of relief when it gives way, but quickly realises he has no idea where in the school Nezumi actually is.

But before he can go searching for him, his sophomore World History teacher spots him from the far end of the corridor. He eyes Shion suspiciously and converges on him.

“What is a student doing here?” he asks, voice carefully slow. “And an excluded one, at that?”

Shion clears his throat. “I’m sorry,” he begins in his most humble tone, “but I left something here, and I just came to get it. I’ll go right away.”

The tall man raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing the lie for a second. “Right,” he deadpans.

Shion’s insides twist. “Sir, I –”

But the teacher only shushes him, waving his protests away dismissively. “I’m not going to get you in trouble, Shion. You’re a good kid. And I’m sure you have a half-decent reason to be here; who in their right mind comes to school during their exclusion? And on a weekend, to boot?” His lips curl into an awkward half-smile, as if he hasn’t had quite enough practice making the expression. “Go on. Just make sure no one else sees you; there are quite a few teachers here today on a mandatory training course.” He leans a little closer, as if telling a secret. “It’s on the second floor.”

Shion nods gratefully at the warning, remembering acutely why this man had been his favourite teacher that year. “Thank you,” he says to the aged face, and the words are as sincere as the warm grin that accompanies them. “I won’t let you down.”

The teacher shakes his head in an affectionately disapproving sort of manner, and that’s the last Shion sees of him as he strides away.

His legs work on autopilot as he mentally runs through a list of possible places Nezumi could be. At the top of the list is by Nezumi’s locker; he did say that there was something he needed to retrieve, after all.

He makes a sharp left turn into the correct corridor, but it’s barren. He comes to an abrupt halt.

 _Okay_ , he thinks slowly and deliberately, reigning in confused thoughts and the first twinges of panic at the absence of the walking enigma. _Where would Nezumi think I would look? That’s probably where he is_.

Next destination: Shion’s own locker.

But the next hallway over is also empty, and Shion huffs out a frustrated sigh, carding a pale, bony hand through tangled hair. His next choice would naturally be the rooftop. Nezumi always seemed to enjoy the freedom of the fresh spring air on those occasions they ate lunch together up on the roof, when the breeze was still as sharp as Nezumi’s tongue.

Those moments seem worlds away now.

Shion breathes out heavily, exhaling the sudden heaviness in his chest as he forces himself to stay on track. Yes, the roof would normally be his next option… except the second floor is in the way. He can hear even from his current position that the second floor is packed with teachers.

So, that rules out the roof. Nezumi might be sneaky as hell when he wants to be, but not even _he_ would risk it, knowing that Shion would have to follow him.

“Nezumi…” Shion breathes, a quiet plea for the man to appear miraculously in front of him. He runs his hands over his face as if scrubbing away the annoyance and chooses a direction at random. His steps are light and quick, desperation bubbling up and stirring his very blood into agitation.

Shion suddenly realises he hasn’t seen Nezumi’s face for an entire month.

Perhaps this thought had triggered some kind of tracking mechanism in Shion’s mind; he isn’t quite certain. But within a minute he _knows_ he’s close. He can feel Nezumi’s presence in his _bones._

 _So at least you have_ some _natural instincts_ , a resonating voice teases him, and Shion lets out a breathy chuckle as he recognises Nezumi’s smooth tone in his inner monologue.

He stops dead in his tracks.

Somewhere ahead of him – very close – he can hear a voice. Distinct. Clear.

Shion isn’t sure why this revelation requires a quietening of footsteps or a hush of shallow breathing, but it does. The voice gets louder and less muffled the closer he tiptoes towards the main hall, and the pleasant chimes of an accompanying piano also meet his ears. With surprise, Shion realises that Nezumi is _singing_ , and he can’t stop himself from edging closer along the wall until he hits the grand double-doors. One is just barely ajar, and he gives it a small push, relief washing through him when it swings open without a creak.

Nezumi is ensconced at the piano, liquid velvet pouring off his tongue as the melody flows unhindered. Each note is pure and golden, like honey pooling warmth in Shion’s chest, and the stream of sound flawlessly soars and dives and swims in his ears like molten diamond until nothing besides Nezumi’s voice exists in his world anymore. The music throbs and winds and twists itself between the fibres of Shion’s mind, and he is certain that what he is hearing right now, the silken melody woven by Nezumi’s tongue, is the most beautiful, crystalline perfection he will ever experience.

With a start, Shion realises it’s his own composition.

His phone clatters to the ground, and Nezumi breaks off. The sudden silence is deafening as they are momentarily and infinitely trapped in a single second of hitched breath and eye contact.

Nezumi moves.

“I’m – s-sorry,” Shion stutters, rasped words gracelessly tumbling out in stark contrast to the sound that had so recently filled the room. “I’ll –”

But he can’t quite form the rest of the sentence, because Nezumi has left the piano and is heading his way, his determined stance the flipside of the almost vulnerable glimmer in those inescapable stormy eyes.

He slows to a stop in front of Shion, standing close – so very, very close – and then pauses, uncertainty clear as day in his tense shoulders and turbulent gaze. He seems about to say something, but swallows the words down again at the last moment, a rugged sigh the only sound escaping his lips. This close, Shion can see the deep flush on the man’s neck, and hear the quick, rough breaths that brush his own cheek, and he observes as Nezumi’s final walls crumble, crashing at their feet.

Standing before him is Nezumi, soft and unguarded and looking like he might flee at any moment, and Shion has never felt such a breathtaking swell of love.

He hears his own heart hammer wildly in his throat as a pale, slender hand lifts to his cheek, touch feather-light as if afraid Shion might break. Nezumi’s eyes never leave his own, unsure and almost asking for permission as the hand presses with wavering confidence, and Shion’s movement is automatic as he reaches up and lays his own hand over Nezumi’s, a silent reassurance, a gentle squeeze. _It’s okay_.

It’s all Nezumi needs.

He leans forwards and two pairs of eyes flutter closed, their heated breaths echoing in their ears as Nezumi closes the chasm between them.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I intended for this to be the last chapter... but it ended up literally twice as long as expected, so I cut it in half. Since it's all already written, you can expect the final chapter in a couple of days (I'm too impatient to wait any longer than that). Until then, this will have to do.

When they break apart, it feels like both an eternity and a nanosecond has passed. Although it feels to Shion as if all the air has escaped his lungs, he keeps his expression cautiously neutral, uncertain now of Nezumi’s feelings and unable to predict his next move. And Nezumi truly is capable of anything. Would he suddenly confess reciprocating feelings? Apologise profusely and say it was a mistake? Get unreasonably angry and totally freak out?

As it so happens, Nezumi does none of these things.

He holds Shion’s liquid lilac gaze for a moment more, just long enough for Shion to detect the shock in Nezumi’s wide-eyed stare, as if he himself has only just realised what he’s done.

“I –” Nezumi bites off awkwardly, for once completely open, guards down and walls gone. He clears his throat and takes a quiet step back, eyes flicking about nervously, landing on anything in the room besides Shion. A pale hand reaches up to ghost over his ponytail, thin lips parting in what looks to be some sort of explanation or protest – but no sound emerges, as if his voice is being swallowed up by the heavy blush creeping up his throat. He turns his gaze to the ground and makes a strange expression; tense and stubbornly rigid, unmoving. His hands deliberately work themselves in and out of fists, and his breath is audible even from three feet away.

Grey eyes glance up, and when Shion meets them their intensity burns.

“Nezumi,” Shion begins, aiming for quietly confident but sounding a lot more like nervously pleading.

The blush reaches the bridge of Nezumi’s nose, and he sucks in a thin breath. He stays silent.

“Nezumi,” Shion repeats, a little firmer though his voice still shakes. “I think we should talk.”

The taller man physically cringes at the words, and the breath is let out in a stuttering puff of air. For a moment Shion thinks for once Nezumi will listen, but then he quickly sidesteps Shion and hurries out of the hall, the grand door swinging wildly in his wake.

He doesn’t look back.

Shion watches him go with an unsettled stomach. Perhaps he should be following, asking Nezumi to just calm down for a moment – because he has _never_ seen Nezumi lose his composure like that – and talk this through like adults… but, truth be told, Shion isn’t feeling like much of an adult either. He would much rather let Nezumi collect his thoughts on his own than face him and the possible rejection right now. Besides, right now, after what just happened, he doesn’t think he could hold a conversation with Nezumi without passing out.

He swivels his head slowly around, every movement and thought sluggish with an odd numbness that could only be the icy edges of shock. His gaze flutters about the room until the piano catches his eye. Specifically, the sheet music on the stand. Shion moves towards it – he might as well collect the music, while he’s here – but all his limbs feel weak and clumsy, as if he’s not entirely used to having them yet, and he very nearly trips up the stairs to the stage.

He reaches out for the flimsy paper, but his trembling fingers halt just a half inch away.

His own handwriting. His own uneven scrawl of notes and diagonal bar lines, his writing as much of a mess as the music itself… and yet, when Nezumi played it…

 _He makes it come alive_.

Sounds swim in his ears, echoes of the magic Nezumi brewed at this very piano only minutes before, transforming Shion’s own scruffy notes into an overwhelming ocean of octaves, triplets and trills. He still can’t quite believe it, that anyone could make music that astounding.

 _He really is something else_.

Behind his eyes, unbidden, flash thoughts – _memories_ – of that kiss just moments ago, and the shiver in his hand streaks up his arm and down his spine, leaving trails of goosebumps tingling along his skin.

A little breathless, he collects the numerous dog-eared, coffee-stained pages and holds them close to his chest. Shion knows he should feel more frustrated about not bringing a bag to carry all the sheets in – but somehow he can’t bring himself to think past how warm the paper feels in his hands.

* * *

He doesn’t really remember the long walk home, apart from the wild thoughts flitting endless and disorganised through his mind. He _does_ remember the drop of his stomach at the realisation that no matter how much time Shion spends with Nezumi, he’ll probably never get even an inch closer to figuring the enigma out. He also remembers the stark lack of annoyance at the thought; in fact, there is a distinct fondness surrounding it. After all, Shion has spent his entire life able almost without effort to figure out any and every problem set before him. To be able to figure Nezumi out so easily… well, it would be a bit disappointing, really.

Neither does Shion remember the rest of the night, or even any of Sunday. He’s sure that there was at least one conversation with his mother, and he must have eaten quite a lot of dinner at some point, because when he wakes up on Monday morning he can barely stomach breakfast. Karan shoots him a few worried glances, but obviously deems his distracted state something not worth bothering him about. She laughs a little as he struggles to find his shoes, mentioning how the anxious excitement surrounding him reminds her of his very first day of school. He tries his best to look exasperated at that comment, though the effect of his deadpan look is probably dampened by the sweater half-pulled over his head.

He arrives unusually early to school. He isn’t entirely sure why; maybe he’s eager to get back into his normal routine, or maybe dodging speeding cars on his bike is an easy distraction from his nerves, currently coiled like charged wires.

He has first period in the seat beside Nezumi.

A hollow _click_ echoes through the courtyard as Shion locks up his bike, and he begins meandering to class. Teachers are already scurrying around, and there is a distant metallic _clank_ from the kitchens.

“Shion!”

His shriek ricochets down the corridor.

Safu appears in his line of sight, one eyebrow severely raised. “Are you okay?”

One hand over his chest in a vain attempt to calm his stuttering heartbeat, Shion breathes a heavy sigh. “Yeah. Sorry. Just a bit jumpy.” He tries for a comforting smile, though by the look on Safu’s face it comes across as more of a tortured grimace.

“I would never have noticed,” she deadpans, hands on hips while she gives him a solid look-over, as if checking a machine for loose screws.

Her humour does lighten Shion’s mood, even if only a little. The awkward chuckle he gives her is mostly genuine. “It’s a long story,” he tries to explain, seeing the concern in Safu’s stance. “I’ll tell you about it at lunch.” He huffs, and adds under his breath, “if I survive that long.”

Safu’s other eyebrow rises to join the first, but she allows the comment to slip past. “So why are you here so early?”

Shion shrugs. “I woke up early, I guess.”

Safu very clearly doesn’t believe that _one bit_ , but she keeps her mouth shut. To Shion’s utter relief, she’s feeling amiable enough to let the conversation slide into light chitchat about her weekend, happy to ramble about her grandmother and pie-baking until they reach the end of their mutual journey to class.

“See you at break,” Safu says through a grin, waving slightly as she enters her classroom. Shion nods his assent, and opens the adjacent door.

To his surprise, there are already students milling about. His World History teacher is sitting at his desk, looking very busy with papers and books – but at the sound of the closing door, he glances up.

 _Damn_ , Shion hisses in his mind. He’d been hoping to get away unnoticed. The last thing he wants right now is a string of disapproving looks from his superiors.

But to his surprise, the man smiles. “Welcome back, Shion. Did you have a nice break?”

Okay, so maybe there was a little sarcasm there. But it didn’t seem like he’d fallen entirely out of his teacher’s favour, at least.

Shion isn’t sure what to say, so he tries for a polite smile and quickly shuffles over to his seat on the back row. It feels strange, pulling out the familiar chair and hearing it squeal in protest as the legs drag along the parquet flooring. So much has happened since the last time he sat here….

He spends the next ten minutes gazing blankly out of the window, through the glass spotted and warped with age, at the meticulously trimmed hedgerows lining the wall of the nearby park. No matter where you go in Chronos, the view is beautiful.

As the minutes pass, the room gradually fills with students; the hushed muttering surrounding him slowly crescendos into a roaring cacophony of sleep-deprived teenagers, and almost without Shion noticing it, one very familiar face slips into the seat beside him like a diamond amongst the dirt.

He’s almost afraid to look. The fact that Nezumi hasn’t requested a change of seat is a good sign, but…

“Welcome back.”

No sarcasm. No witty comments about Shion’s nerdy eagerness. Not even a hint of that beautiful lopsided smirk, reminiscent of a cat with a satisfyingly full stomach.

Shion turns to face him. Indeed, the smirk is nowhere to be seen, his expression guarded but not suspicious. Neither a sneer nor a smile in sight. In fact, Nezumi is ever so slightly hunched, his head ever so slightly dipped – and for one heartstopping second, he appears almost _shy_.

After a pause just a little too long for comfort, Shion manages a hoarse, “Thanks.”

It isn’t like before. Nezumi meets his eyes without uncertainty. There is no panic in his stance, no shock; his gaze is strong and firm and fierce.

Shion can’t look away.

* * *

“Shion? Are you even listening to me?”

Lavender eyes blink languidly from beside her on the sidewalk, slowly coming back into focus, and a slender finger pushes glasses up a button nose. Shion sighs. “Sorry, Safu.”

Safu echoes his sigh, crossing her arms in weak irritation and resisting the urge to rub the bridge of her nose. She doesn’t quite manage to cover her aggressively heavy footsteps. “I thought you were distracted before, but this… This is a whole new kettle of fish.” She purses her lips, aiming a pointed glare his way. “Tell me what happened.”

His smile is one of fond resignation. “I’m not sure how you’ll react,” he blurts, honest and frank as ever.

 _Oh no_. Now that was _not_ a good sign. “What do you mean?” she asks, trying not to sound too wary. “Come on, if you’re smiling like that it can’t be _that_ bad…” But she trails off, and it almost sounds like a question.

Shion sighs again, and this time it’s a heavy, weighty sound. He breaks eye contact. “Nezumi…” He stumbles a little over his words, and Safu swears that’s a flush darkening his cheeks. “We kissed.”

Safu isn’t aware that she’s stopped walking until she sees Shion pause and turn from three feet in front of her. “You’re taking it badly, aren’t you,” he states. Groans. Cards an aggravated hand through snowy locks. “Oh man.”

“No,” she amends hurriedly. “It’s not – I’m just… surprised.”

“Yeah,” Shion chuckles breathlessly, lips widening into a dopey grin he doesn’t seem to notice he’s wearing. “That makes two of us.”

That confuses her. But she sets it aside for the moment, deciding to focus on the far larger issue. “You _kissed_.”

Shion half-shrugs, eyebrows raised innocently. “He ran away right afterwards, so I thought maybe it was a mistake, but when I saw him today…” Shion’s smile warms and softens.

“You –” She has to cut herself off before she completely loses it. Sure, she’d noticed the looks Nezumi gave her best friend when he thought they weren’t looking – and maybe Shion wasn’t, but she sure as hell was. She’d _known_ the interest was mutual. Perhaps even before those two knew it themselves.

But she hadn’t actually expected it to _go_ anywhere.

Shion is too self-doubting, and Nezumi is too private. She’d been so sure that neither of them would work up the courage to make the first move…

Well. She’d been wrong. There really _is_ a first time for everything, after all.

Safu draws in a deep, deep breath, closes her eyes, and lets all the shock out in one heavy exhalation. Brown eyes open to meet Shion’s anxious stare. “I’m happy for you.”

The words are a little hard to say – Shion is her best friend. Her _only_ friend. The thought of sharing him is... a little painful, to be brutally honest. But that doesn’t mean her words are any less true.

Shion looks surprised. “Really?” he wonders aloud. “I was expecting something along the lines of how unreliable and dangerous and suspicious Nezumi is and that I’d be better off without him…”

Safu sighs in exasperation. “Shion. Really? After I’ve spent so much time trying to get you two together?”

Shion’s jaw hits the floor. “You – what –?”

 _Come on_ , she thinks. _Don’t tell me he didn’t even_ notice.

Safu can’t help herself. She bursts out laughing, and it seems to only add to Shion’s alarmed confusion.

“Seriously,” she affirms between hearty cackles. “I’m really happy for you.”

Shion still seems caught and tangled up between relief and panic, and his responding chuckle sounds frazzled at best – but he’s smiling. “Thank you.”

* * *

Safu eyes the mash being pushed half-heartedly around his plate. “So what are you going to do?”

Shion glances up, shooting her his best _I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about_ look from across the lunch table.

Chestnut eyes roll dramatically around in their sockets. “About Nezumi, Shion. _Nezumi_. You know, the handsome bad boy with a motorbike you shared a passionate kiss with?”

Shion can feel his cheeks throb beet red, and he glances wildly around at the students filling the cafeteria. “ _Shhh!_ ”

Safu’s smirking at him. “Oh come on, Shion. No one’s listening.” She stabs a bland-looking vegetable with her fork. She stares at him, her gaze sharp. “It’s been days since you told me, Shion. And god knows how many more days since it actually happened. But you haven’t done anything about it.”

“I know –” he begins to protest, the words falling out of his mouth on autopilot – but he stops, because she’s right. He’s spent days exchanging long, meaningful looks with Nezumi across the classroom, down the corridor, even through the window as he watches Nezumi pull up in the parking lot and try not to let his hair get caught when he takes his motorcycle helmet off.

Sometimes those looks are frighteningly intense, and sometimes Nezumi smiles at him in a way that makes Shion really need to sit down for fear his knees might give way. But neither of them have spoken since their first lesson back on Monday.

“I know,” he repeats with a tone of finality.

Safu’s expression softens in sympathy. “He’s waiting. He’s an idiot who expects everyone else to put in all the effort in a relationship without needing anything of him, but – he’s waiting for you, Shion. He wants you to approach him. If Nezumi won’t come to you, don’t just sit around and let your feelings go to waste. Go to him. _Carpe diem_.”

* * *

_After all that, nothing happened._

Shion had spent his remaining school hours thinking desperately about what to do. He’d run through every possible outcome in his mind… but, in the end, he’d been so preoccupied just _thinking_ about it that he forgot to actually _act._

He opens the door and the bells tinkles his arrival. A waft of warm, humid air swaddles him.

“I’m home,” he announces, his voice carrying to the kitchen, where his mother is hard at work baking.

Karan peeps around the doorframe, her grin bright and floury. “How was school?”

Shion shrugs, dumping his bag by the entryway with an uncharacteristic bout of lethargy.

Her smile droops into encouraging sympathy. “Not good?”

This time Shion’s shrug is a little more forceful. “Not good. But not _bad_ , per se.”

Karan gathers the dough with one hand and re-flours the countertop with the other as she waits for him to elaborate.

“Nothing happened. Nothing at all,” Shion continues after an exasperated huff. “That’s the problem.”

It’s Karan’s turn to sigh – which catches Shion’s attention. She’s wearing her _motherly-yet-firm_ expression, and she finally turns her back to her baking, arms crossing over her chest. _Never a good sign._ “Shion.”

He tries his best to look like he doesn’t know what on _earth_ he could have done to deserve that tone of voice – and, to be honest, he doesn’t. “Yes?”

A brown eyebrow rises with just a twinge of impatience. “Something’s bothering you.”

_Oh boy._

“You’ve been acting strangely for days. I thought maybe if I gave you a little time, you’d explain what’s going on… but apparently I need to be direct.” Some of her sternness is let out in a long exhale. “I just want to know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

 _How I wish there was._ “Sorry,” he starts, letting himself fall against the counter. He can feel the sharp edge digging into his hip. “It’s… about Nezumi.” He shushes her protests. “There’s nothing you can do, Mama. I think this is something I have to work through on my own.” He shoots her his strongest smile. “Don’t worry. If things take a turn for the worse, you’ll be the first one I’ll tell.”

Karan puffs out a laugh. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

He ruffles his hair, a nervous habit. “I don’t know what else to say.”

* * *

Shion glances around again, agitated and paranoid. The corridor is just as empty as it was ten seconds ago, but that doesn’t seem to calm his nerves any.

He fingers the slip of paper in his hand, chewing on his lip in apprehension. Part of him can’t believe he’s actually doing this. It feels sneaky and wrong, but also a strange kind of exciting – and he pushes the paper under the locker door before he can convince himself out of it, and legs it down the corridor with a shit-eating grin on his face.

* * *

Nezumi swears under his breath as he wrestles with three textbooks, a cup of coffee and a locker key simultaneously, wondering why humans couldn’t have evolved a third hand.

“Fuck this,” he grumbles after another minute, dropping the textbooks onto the lino flooring and sighing in relief. The coffee is passed to his left hand and he opens his locker with his right – “Shit!”

He barely catches the folded piece of paper before it hits the ground.

_What is this?_

Folders are pushed out of the way inside his locker to make room for his coffee cup and keys, freeing up his hands to unfold the scrap of paper – which, it turns out, is far from a scrap; a near full sheet of lined paper folded into the size of a quarter.

Nezumi spares a moment to marvel at how that’s even physically possible, before squinting to read the small, rough writing harshly blurred by the fold lines.

 

_Lost Town Central Fountain  5 pm_

_Don’t be late_

He stares for a moment at the blunt message, re-reading it to make sure it’s not just a figment of his imagination. Nezumi checks both sides in search of a name, some hint as to who wrote it, but he comes up empty.

He purses his lips in thought. _I know that handwriting…_

Well. It doesn’t really matter. It looks like he’ll be finding out the culprit this afternoon, anyway.

* * *

Shion’s nerves haven’t calmed any since this morning. In fact, he suspects they might have gotten worse. He hasn’t been able to get thoughts of the note out of his mind all day.

He tugs the worn beanie lower and pushes his glasses further up his nose. The gentle noise of the fountain is calming, and he moves to sit on the edge of the concrete rim. He dips his fingers into the water, and pale eyebrows rise at how cold the water feels against his hands. He thought it would be warmer, considering the sweltering July heat pressing humidly down upon them this afternoon.

Shion checks his watch. _16:56_. Nezumi isn’t late yet. He shouldn’t worry.

Did Nezumi even get his note? He’d shown no abnormal reaction when they passed each other in the corridor. Just a burning stare held a little too long, the ritual they’d somehow established between them over the past week. Perhaps it was because both of them felt that emotions were better seen than spoken.

Until now. Shion doesn’t know about Nezumi, but the tension between them is eating him alive. That’s why he left a note. No matter what Nezumi might think about the situation, they _need_ to talk.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty awful with endings, but I hope it turned out okay.
> 
> Well, that's all, folks.

By the time Nezumi is striding down the streets of Lost Town, he's figured it all out.

He  _does_  recognise that handwriting – from months of reading Shion's notes on his sheet music. And if Shion wants to meet him, that means he wants to talk. And if he wants to talk…

 _I'm not looking forward to this_.

Shion is sitting at the fountain, tense as all hell and looking as if he might implode at any moment. Nezumi smirks a little in wry sympathy. He feels pretty much the same.

He gathers his breath and relaxes his shoulders as he approaches. "Shion."

Shion starts, looking around wildly before he spots Nezumi across the plaza. His grin and wave are a little sheepish.

Nezumi waves back, his smirk melting into a smile.

"Hey," Shion greets as Nezumi settles down beside him.

"Hey," Nezumi replies, not entirely sure what else there is to say. He's comforted a little by the fact that Shion appears similarly lost for words, casting lavender eyes around the plaza, maybe in hope that he'll find a clue as to what to do next.

After a good minute or two of awkward silence, Shion breathes a deep sigh, eyes returning to the pale hands folded in his lap. "We need to talk."

Nezumi follows his gaze, feeling too awkward for eye contact. Shion is wringing his hands nervously.

"Yeah," he replies after a beat. "I guess we do."

He knows, now. If he really looks deep inside himself – not something he enjoys doing, but a necessary step every now and then – he'll even admit to himself that he's known for a while. And after that kiss… well, it's become undeniable.

Shion takes a breath. "Nezumi, I… There's something I need to say. I've said it before, but not  _properly_. I wasn't even sure myself at the time, so I don't know why I thought it was reasonable of me to expect  _you_  to be sure." Shion frowns a little, and Nezumi has an overwhelming urge to reach forward and kiss those lips back into a smile. "I'm not making much sense, am I."

Nezumi's lips quirk slightly. Sometimes, Shion could be so… well,  _Shion_. "Not really."

Shion breathes heavily, slouching and half-smiling in resignation, eyes lifted towards the sky. Nezumi could stare at that portrait for an eternity, Shion's ghost-white profile glowing ethereally in the summer sun, and he can hardly believe he never noticed in all those months how beautiful Shion is.

"I can't explain it," Shion murmurs after a moment, voice airy and tentative. "I knew before we kissed. I knew even before the fire." He keeps his lilac gaze on the sky; perhaps, Nezumi thinks, because it's easier. "I just  _knew_."

The smile doesn't fade, even as Shion reaches across the small space between them and encloses Nezumi's hand in his. His grip is sure and firm, and he squeezes Nezumi's fingers gently. "I'm sorry for not knowing what to do, and not being able to express myself properly. Maybe if I'd been able to figure things out earlier, we wouldn't have wasted so much time in this mess."

Nezumi opens his mouth to protest – it's an equal part his own fault, too – but Shion interrupts him with a sigh.

He turns, then. Meets Nezumi's eyes with the force of a lilac lightning bolt, and no matter how hard he tries Nezumi can't tear his eyes away. "Nezumi."

Shion's leaning forward, dipping his head, and Nezumi unconsciously mimics the action until their foreheads brush.

"Yeah?" Nezumi whispers, his throat dry and his neck hot, his breaths coming in staccato stutters. He leans into the touch, and shivers tremble down his spine.

Shion's smile widens. "I love you."

Nezumi is silent for a moment, blinking slowly. He'd even been expecting it, and yet hearing it said aloud still managed to stun him, leave him helplessly breathless.

"You don't have to answer now. I don't want to rush you, Nezumi. I just want you to know… I love you." Shion tips his head a little, pressing a sweet kiss against the corner of Nezumi's lips. "I always will."

* * *

_I love you._

_I always will._

Nezumi had not been expecting to feel the elation he had felt when hearing those words. Neither had he been expecting the words that found their way to the tip of his tongue, itching to finally be let loose.

He stares blindly out of his bedroom window, tossing the ball of paper back and forth between his hands, needing to occupy them somehow before he uses them to tear his hair out.

He's a nervous wreck.

Inukashi's words, not his. And while he would really like to be able to disagree, well… he could draw up a mile-long list of negative connotations of these feelings: fear of unchartered territory, fear of abandonment, fear of inadequacy, fear of commitment, fear of disappointment, fear of betrayal.

Fear that once he gave in, he would never be able to turn back.

Fear that he wouldn't  _want_  to.

Nezumi is scared of a lot of things. But the thing which has always frightened him the most is Shion. Shion has sway over him unlike anyone he's ever met. When Shion is angry, Nezumi is angry. When Shion is upset, Nezumi is upset. And when he sees Shion smile…

Well, let's just say that in Nezumi's opinion, the positives far outweigh the negatives.

So why can't he just let himself go?

"Shit," he mumbles, as the paper ball lands in his mug of coffee. He fishes it out with a finger and thumb, sighing gruffly, before throwing it at the waste paper basket in the corner of the room.

He misses, and it hits the edge of his desk and rebounds onto the floor, where it rolls languidly across the pale carpet, leaving a brown trail in its wake.

Strange, how that reminds him of Shion. Shion, when he spilled hot coffee all over his World History essay at school, and his face scrunched up into an expression of annoyance so cute that not even the profanity spilling from his lips could dull the effect.

Shion.

The sound of the doorbell cuts through the quiet of the household. Unusual. No one in the house is much of a people person, so there aren't usually visitors besides the pizza delivery guys – and they've just had dinner. Nezumi raises a brow and moves to his door, opening it just enough for the doorstep conversation to be audible.

"What's up, huh? You're late!" Inukashi, sounding pretty irate.

"Sorry. I got caught up in… some stuff."

Nezumi's breath catches in his throat.  _It can't be…_

Inukashi huffs loudly. "You're such a moron, Shion, I swear. Well don't just stand there, come in – have you had dinner yet? We have a bit of leftover pizza if you're hungry."

Nezumi can feel his heartbeat in his skull. Shion is in his house. Why is Shion in his house?

Inukashi's voice becomes muffled as they move into the kitchen. "Where were you last week, anyway? The dogs missed you."

Oh, right. Inukashi's dog-washer.

He forcibly calms his heart. If he just stays upstairs for the next couple of hours, he'll be fine. No need to interact with Shion just yet.

But he hears the back door open, and he can't help himself when he glances out of the window, conveniently overlooking the garden. Shion doesn't look any different. Well, he's changed out of that nice shirt he was wearing earlier and into an old print tee, much more suitable for messy dog-washing. But apart from that…

 _I don't know what I expected. Just maybe a sign that this afternoon wasn't a hallucination_.

He sees Shion laugh, grinning widely at whoever is standing in the doorway to the kitchen (most likely Inukashi), before spinning eagerly around to greet the excited babble of barking dogs. Each one he gives a thorough hug and separate greeting, seemingly remembering each dog individually.

Nezumi swallows the lump in his throat, and curses himself for being ridiculous enough to feel jealous of  _dogs_. With a certain amount of reluctance, he pulls the blinds closed, if only to stop himself from staring creepily at Shion for the next two hours.

He flops down into his chair and takes a swig of coffee. His plan is simple: to shut himself in his room – barricade the door, if necessary – and hide himself away until Shion leaves. It's pathetic, he knows that – but he still feels a little shaken by their encounter at the fountain, and he most certainly isn't ready for an energetic, bubbly Shion to burst right through his door and possibly give him a heart attack. To be honest, he doesn't think he's quite ready to face  _anyone_  just yet.

"Oi! Princess! Get your ass down here, it's your turn to do the dishes!"

Unfortunately, it seems fate doesn't agree with his plan. Nezumi sighs, rubbing irritably at his eye. "No it's not," he calls back, hoping Inukashi's too exhausted after soccer practice to argue with him.

There's a distinct clinking sound, suspiciously similar to that of someone manhandling porcelain. "Yes it is! If you don't get down here  _right now_ , I'll smash all the plates and tell the old man you did it!"

Nezumi snorts. "You wouldn't."

He can almost  _hear_  the vicious smirk in Inukashi's voice. "You wanna bet?"

Nezumi tenses slightly. True, they might have done similar things back when they were a rebellious ten-year-old, but surely…

There's a horrible smashing sound, and Nezumi shoots out of his chair. "I'm coming! Wait!"

When he gets downstairs, Inukashi is holding a jagged-edged slice of what used to be a blue plate. They're smirking devilishly as they hand the dirty half-plate off to Nezumi. They obnoxiously sashay towards the living room humming an offensively cheerful tune, careful not to tread on the porcelain pieces scattered across the floor on their way out.

Nezumi growls deep in his throat at the sight of the smashed plate littering the kitchen tiles.  _At least it's only one_ , he tries to console himself. He quickly sweeps up what he can and dumps it in the trash, before turning to confront the huge pile of dirty dishes in the sink – that is, far more than there should be for only one day… and a sneaking suspicion grows that Inukashi didn't do their dishes last night.

_That little –!_

A loud splash sounds from outside, and Nezumi is suddenly jolted back into the reality that he's going to be washing dishes here for at least half an hour, in full view of the window and with Shion only twenty yards away.

He isn't sure whether to be thrilled or terrified.

He turns on the tap with perhaps more force than is necessary, glaring stubbornly down at the dishes as he begins the lengthy process and refusing to raise his head.  _Okay_ , he tells himself firmly.  _Just do the dishes. Scrub, rinse. Scrub, rinse. Shion isn't here._

Musical shrieks and cackles reach his ears from outside, interlaced with enthusiastic barks. Nezumi twitches.

There's a tremendous splash and the sound of the plastic bucket being thrown across the lawn.

It's the last straw.

Nezumi drops his current plate into the sink, scrubs his hands dry on his jeans and throws open the back door.

Shion turns around, eyebrows shooting up but more in pleasant surprise and confusion than shock. "Nezumi."

He tries to formulate a proper, coherent response, he really does. But all Nezumi can seem to do is clutch silently at the sliding glass door like it's a lifeline.

Shion's face breaks out into a wide, knowing grin, splitting his face in half from ear to ear. He stands, and tries not to trip over Inukashi's energetic mutts on his way over to the upturned bucket. He picks it up and heads towards him and it's all Nezumi can do not to cringe away as Shion squeezes past him through the doorway.

Nezumi watches Shion's face crumple a bit in thought as he eyes the overflowing sink, but somehow Shion manages to push enough dishes out of the way to get the tap water into the bucket.

Part of him wants to ask why Shion isn't talking to him. But most of him doesn't want to disrupt the almost-comfortable silence between them. He's never been particularly good at speaking freely and eloquently about his emotions, and if Shion is okay with not talking about them, then that's all for the better, really.

A minute later, Shion returns outside, and it's only after he's already standing barefoot in the grass that Nezumi realises he's followed him.

Shion kneels back down, resuming the chore. He doesn't ask Nezumi to leave, so Nezumi stays, opting to sit a few metres away so as to avoid any stray water splashes.

They sit like that, companionably quiet, for quite a while. Shion is content to wash the dogs, and Nezumi is content to watch him. But the nervous, edgy energy in his bloodstream doesn't calm, even as he relaxes into Shion's warm presence and Inukashi's gracious absence. He feels it thrumming in time with his heartbeat, and when Shion glances up and meets his eyes, the energy explodes in his veins like gunpowder.

Nezumi thinks that maybe he could have sat there forever and not minded it one bit. But unfortunately nothing lasts forever, and soon enough there are no more dogs to wash, and nothing to keep Shion in the house any longer.

Inukashi and Shion then spend some time exchanging friendly small talk about the dogs over cold pizza, and Nezumi inexplicably finds himself standing awkwardly in the corner of the kitchen rather than escaping back upstairs, which would definitely have been the more sensible course of action.

"I should probably be going," Shion says after a while, sounding just as reluctant as Nezumi feels.

"Be careful on the way home," Inukashi warns casually as they try to balance the two new plates on top of the already teetering pile of dirty dishes in the sink, and Nezumi glares at the increased workload. "It's pretty dark out, and you know West Block."

Shion casts a quick glance out of the window, as if surprised that sunset had already come and gone. Truth be told, Nezumi hadn't noticed either. He decides not to read too much into that.

Shion nods, smiles and heads for the door.

"I could give you a ride."

Nezumi blinks as all eyes turn to him. He doesn't remember making the conscious decision to say those words, but it seems they found their way out of his mouth anyway. He clears his throat a little, too proud to back down now. "Two can fit on my bike. If you want."

Inukashi's expression is one of amused shock (with a suggestively raised eyebrow as the cherry on the cake), but he steadfastly ignores them, focusing instead on Shion and praying that he hasn't just made a total fool of himself.

After a moment which feels like a lifetime, Shion nods slowly, the corners of his mouth quirking up in an odd smile. "Sure. That would be great."

Nezumi tugs on his boots and shrugs into his jacket on the way out of the front door and onto the driveway, where his motorcycle is parked alongside the car. He hands Shion the helmet and climbs on.

Shion looks meaningfully at the sole helmet in his hands, and back up at Nezumi as he starts the engine. He looks about to protest at the use of only one helmet between what is clearly two people, but Nezumi just rolls his eyes. "I've been riding without one for years. I'll be fine."

A resigned, faintly disapproving sigh leaves Shion's lips, and he awkwardly clambers on behind Nezumi, pulling the helmet over his head and lifting the visor. Nezumi can feel Shion's eyes on him, so he turns towards the road, revving the engine a little.

"You've been wearing one lately, though."

Warmth blooms in his veins, and Nezumi is glad Shion can't see the surprise on his face. "You noticed?"

"Yeah." A pause. "Why?"

Nezumi only shrugs, feigning nonchalance. There lies a story he's not quite ready to tell yet. The thought of telling Shion the truth… That the reason he's finally starting to look after himself is purely because his apathy about death has vastly reduced since meeting Shion – even thinking of it stains his cheeks red with embarrassment and makes his stomach churn with nerves. That's just not something you say in response to an offhand question.

So he swallows the melancholic thought, revs the engine once more for good luck, and pulls out onto the street.

Shion lets out a thin squeal at the sharp acceleration, and his arms wrap themselves tightly around Nezumi's middle. If he wasn't so practiced at this whole motorbike thing, there's a good chance it would have sent them both careening off into a neighbour's front yard.

He's almost thankful that the engine noise cuts off any opportunity for conversation. There's a strange atmosphere surrounding motorbike rides. You're entirely exposed to the elements, so forcefully grounded in reality; and yet, through the deafening noise and speed and tight closeness created by the situation, it feels strangely isolated and almost intimate. From the tentative squeeze around his middle and the feeling of Shion's chin on his shoulder when they stop at the traffic lights, Nezumi guesses that Shion can feel it too.

As they cruise down the empty streets, Shion presses closer, and Nezumi's heartbeat hammering in his ears overshadows even the noise from the engine. Chill night air slicing their skin, the familiar rumbling roar drowning out the sound of the town and streetlights flashing past like falling stars, Shion's arms around his waist and chest against his back – if Nezumi could choose any moment in his life to relive for eternity, this would be the one.

He exhales, his breath dissipating into the night, and he rasps, "I love you, Shion."

"Did you say something?" Shion calls over the raucous buzz of the engine, and Nezumi shakes his head, not bothering to conceal the soft smile pulling at his lips. Another time, perhaps. A time when he can stand strong and not crumble under the purifying weight of love.

Shion remains comfortably silent after that, and nothing Nezumi says would be audible anyway, so he instead basks in the perfect juxtaposition between the tingling warmth of Shion's touch and the cool summer night breeze.

Too soon they arrive at Shion's street, and Nezumi pulls over a few houses down. With the engine off, the silence hits him. He stands up, stretching out his arms above his head with a satisfying  _click_.

Shion stands too, and hands him his helmet with a lopsided grin. "That was pretty awesome."

Nezumi smirks, preening with pride. "You're welcome any time, you know." He takes the proffered helmet under one arm.

"I'll take you up on that, sometime." Shion laughs a little, running a hand self-consciously through his hair and looking very much like he doesn't want to leave.

Nezumi doesn't want him to leave either, but it's late and keeping Shion any longer would be an act of pure selfishness. So instead he returns Shion's smile and resists the urge to wrap himself around Shion like a vice.

"So… I guess I should go," Shion murmurs, eyes fixed on Nezumi's motorcycle boots.

Nezumi clears his throat a little too loudly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Yeah."

Shion tries one final hopeful glance up before waving and backing away a few steps. He grins. "Bye."

Nezumi grins in return, but it fades as soon as Shion's back is turned, and he thinks,  _Now is the time._ He mourns the icy loss of heat at his back, as if there is a hungry, gaping hole he can't see which can only be filled by Shion. He can't explain why, but it feels as if everything has clicked into place. For the first time since he can remember, everything feels  _right_.

His chest burns with the words he's been wanting to say for too long. Shion is ambling away from him, the distance between them growing with every step. There's no one else around, and the air is humming with unspoken tension. It would be so easy. Nezumi could just walk right up to him and tell him everything they both need to hear.

And he knows. He just  _knows_.

_Now is the time._

"Shion, wait."

And he turns around, face blank and open with surprise.

Nezumi bites out the words with some difficulty; it goes against his very nature to leave himself so open, but since when have things regarding Shion ever been normal? "What I said on the motorbike," he calls, his voice sharp and clear, carrying easily down the street on the breeze. "You should know."

Shion is fully facing him now, brow knitted in cautious curiosity. His skin is hauntingly translucent in the dim street lighting, and Nezumi is almost scared that his ghostly form will vanish, slip through his fingers like white smoke.

"I love you."

Shion freezes.

His eyes are wide and he opens his mouth, but no sound comes out –

–  _Shit,_  Nezumi screams inside his head.  _I fucked up, oh shit_  –

– but then he's in fast forward, moving, rushing toward him, and Nezumi's moving, and they meet together with a crushing kiss as the helmet clatters to the ground unheard.

Nezumi can feel the stinging burn behind his eyes, and he keeps them pressed shut as Shion's hands are at his waist, his shoulders, his jaw. This is nothing like their first kiss; they're kissing with passion and need and Nezumi's fingers are digging into the small of Shion's back even as pale hands are wrapping tightly around the back of his neck. He tastes Shion's breath on his tongue as they tear themselves apart, though only far enough that when Nezumi opens his eyes, he sees liquid lavender burning molten and fierce.

"Say it again," Shion whispers against his lips.

The dam breaks.

"I love you."


End file.
